Untold Secrets
by butterflie
Summary: Someone is hurting Yamato very badly. Yet Yamato is afraid to reveal his tormentor. Can he manage to speak that one name before it costs him his life? Warning: Rape/Sexual Abuse, Suicide Attempt. REWRITTEN.
1. Untold Secrets

(If you got an alert for chapter four, scroll to the bottom.)

Author's Notes: I was re-reading Untold Secrets so that I could re-read Waiting because I had it in my head to attempt to rewrite it, and instead I decided I absolutely had to rewrite Untold Secrets. I could hardly even stand to get past the first scenes. Mr. Ishida sounded _homophobic_, which is really appalling. And weird considering I was writing slash, so I have no idea where it came from.

At any rate, I haven't liked or been able to write in first person point of view for quite a long time, so this was a bit of a challenge. I considered changing to third person, but that would change the feel of the story too much. I also found it rather hard to write in past tense, as that's something else I haven't done in a while, so the story is now in present tense.

Two other things of note-this story takes place when Yamato is seventeen, and I use Mr. Ishida's fanon name of Masaharu rather than his canon of Hiroaki, because frankly it's what I'm used to and feel more comfortable with.

Hope you enjoy. I took out all the really stupid scenes and attempted to fix the logic holes, though I still followed the general path of the old version. And I lack patience to fight with ffnet's formatting issues, so if you want to read this proper, you can find it at noesis dot pyreflie dot net slash secrets dot php.

Untold Secrets  
by: butterflie

"Yamato, please, just tell me why you did it. I won't be mad, I just want a reason."

_Your entire body, your pathetic excuse for a life, it's all worthless. You're mine, Ishida. That's the sole purpose of your existence. You live for no other reason. Got that?_

Dad stares down at me, waiting, but I just bite down on my lip and don't answer.

"Yamato, please," Dad begs me. "I need to know. Did something happen to you? Is it something I've done? Some reason you're not happy?"

I shake my head no to all of those.

_You tell anybody, Yamato, and you're as good as dead. Remember, this is our little secret. If anybody else finds out, let's just say, you'll be getting up close and personal with ten inches of cold steel._

"Yamato, please tell me."

_And don't think you can try to get out of this either. You belong to me, and I'll be damned if I'll let you go._

"Dad... please-please don't tell anyone I tried to kill myself," I whisper.

He reaches out and brushes some stray hairs away from my forehead, looking relieved that I'm finally speaking to him. "Yamato, who would I tell other than your brother? I just want to know a reason why, that's all."

I shake my head. "I can't tell you. Please don't tell anyone, not even Takeru."

"Just promise me you won't do it again. Or that you won't try another method. If you start thinking about it, come to me first. Or your brother. Or Taichi. Anyone." He pauses for a moment, swallowing. "I can't lose you, Yamato. You and Takeru are all I have left. I couldn't stand it if anything happened to either of you."

I feel tears stinging my eyes at that. "I promise," I say softly, reluctantly. I'm not at all sure whether I can really keep my promise, but what else can I say to something like that?

x x x

Funny, it seems, how the day had started out so normally. I woke up, had my coffee, saw Yamato off to school, went to work and then just generally went about my day. The usual, at least until I came home this evening to find my son lying unconscious on his bed and bleeding out from his wrists.

Now I'm staring down at him in a different bed, trying to figure out what could cause him to do something like that.

His doctor said he was lucky. That he'd cut across his wrists and not down his arms along the veins. Had he done it properly, I might have been staring down at him lying in a coffin.

At least he promised he wouldn't do it again. Even if he was lying, it's something.

Just then there's a knock at the door. Yamato's doctor, Dr. Kaos, sticks his head inside the room. "Mr. Ishida, may I speak to you for a moment?"

"Of course." I step outside, shutting the door back behind me. "What is it?"

"Masaharu... when Yamato was being stitched up earlier, one of the nurses noticed something." He shifts slightly. "There appeared to be faint traces of semen around and in his mouth, along with what might have been faded bruises on his upper torso. It prompted us to do a more thorough examination once we got him stable."

"What are you saying?" I can hardly get the words out; my mouth has gone completely dry.

"I'm saying there's a possibility he might have been raped. There was evidence suggesting anal intercourse, though whether it was consensual or forced is inconclusive. There were more bruises, some tearing and a bit of bleeding. It's possible he just had rough sex, but the fact that he's lying in a hospital bed with stitched wrists makes me suspicious."

"No." No, this can't be happening.

"Masaharu-"

"No. He's seventeen. He's a boy. Boys sometimes get caught up, don't think, they get eager–I didn't know that he liked boys, but-no. He couldn't have been raped. It's impossible."

"It can happen to both girls _and_ boys. I'm not saying it's a sure thing, but I did want you to be aware of the possibility. I'm sorry."

"I... Oh God." I feel sick. Heartsick, and sick to my stomach. Yamato, raped? Who could do something like that? To my son, my baby boy? Who could be so sick and cruel as to hurt him that way?

I hope with all my heart that it was consensual. Hell of a way to find out my son liked boys, but I could be okay with that. Love's what matters, right? He can sleep with as many guys as he wants, as long as he wasn't forced into it.

Please just let him have been a willing participant.

x x x

I watch listlessly as my dad walks back into my room, his face solemn. He looks upset. More upset than he had before he left. I wonder what Dr. Kaos could have said to him.

He sinks heavily down into the chair beside my bed, not saying anything for a long while.

I inwardly shrug. Right now, the less he says to me, the better. I'm in no mood to talk about anything.

"Yamato, the doctors found some things earlier..." I don't speak, so he continues. "They found some evidence suggesting... It suggested you recently had sex. With another male."

No. No no _no_. "I haven't," I say, trying to stay calm, but my voice trembles when I speak.

"Yamato, they said there was-was semen. In your mouth." My dad's not looking at me.

_You better swallow every single drop when I come, otherwise there will be dire consequences you really don't want to know about._

I swear I can actually feel myself going pale. No one was supposed to know, I wasn't supposed to tell, _how did they find out_?

_You tell anybody, and you're as good as dead._

"Dr. Kaos thought, well, he said you might have been forced into it. That it wasn't-consensual." My dad sounds so awkward.

"No," I whisper. I can't tell. I'm not about to let myself die by _his_ hands.

"No, it wasn't forced, or no, it wasn't consensual?"

My head is pounding. I want some aspirin. I want to curl up into a little ball and wish myself far away from everything. "No," I say again, helplessly.

"No."

x x x

I'm not going to get an answer out of him. And I can't even take his lack of answer as an indicator for either choice. He could be refusing because he's embarrassed to let me know he likes guys, or because he's ashamed or afraid from being raped. There's really no way to tell.

I wish he would just tell me. I'm so afraid and worried and _hurt_. Why won't he tell me? Does he not trust me? Does he think that I would hate him, or be disgusted by him? Or is it something else keeping him from speaking? Did someone threaten him and scare him into not telling?

Dammit! I just want answers!

Angrily, I turn and punch the wall nearest me as hard as I can, then lean my head against it, feeling as if I wanted to cry. My hand is throbbing now, but I don't even care.

I don't understand anything. And worse, I have no idea what to do. If Yamato was raped... how do I handle something like that? Who could be sick enough to do such a thing to him? Would it have been someone he knows, or would he be just another victim of some random, senseless act?

And if the sex was unrelated, then what? I'll be completely back on square one, not knowing what caused him to attempt suicide. And either way, there's the worry that he'll try it again. How does one go about suicide-proofing their house?

I wish he would talk to me.

x x x

Two days. I've been out of the hospital and at home for two days, and I'm about to go crazy. Dad won't let up. He keeps questioning me. I think he's trying to convince himself that I'm gay, because it's better than thinking your son was...

If only he realized that both things are true.

At least I convinced him to go back to work today. I had to promise him my firstborn to get him to go, but now I've finally got some peace.

Of course, this also means that I'm alone with my thoughts and fears. I wish I could call Taichi over, but that would mean he'd see the bandages on my wrists... I don't want him to know what I did to myself. He's at school anyways, where I almost wish I was, because at least then I could feel safe.

I hate that I can't feel safe in my home now. If only I had never given him a copy of our key. I'd like to change the locks, but Dad would wonder, and what's to say he wouldn't find a way to get in anyways? Hell, all he'd have to do is flash that knife of his and I'd let him in a heartbeat.

A key turning in the lock of the front door interrupts me, and my head jerks up, eyes widening. My heart starts pounding, mouth going completely dry. Speak of the devil. I want to get up, to run somewhere, to scream, to cry, but I do none of these things. Instead, I sit frozen on the sofa, only watching as he steps into the room and shuts the door behind him.

He smiles at me as he steps towards me, but it's not a friendly smile. No, it's a cold, menacing smile, and somehow I know, just _know_, that he knows, that he knew before he even came over.

"So Yamato, I hear you did a very stupid thing the other day. "

Instinctively, I shrink back, watching him and waiting, my terror heightening as each step he takes brings him closer towards me.

"Yes, a very stupid thing," he murmurs, standing next to me now. "Were you really that desperate to get away from me? I thought we were friends," he says mock sadly. "And you brought this upon yourself," he adds, suddenly vicious.

I don't answer him, and I'm caught off guard when he swiftly reaches down and grabs my right wrist. I cry out as he squeezes, putting pressure on the wound, and the pain brings tears to my eyes.

"Didn't I tell you that you're mine?" he shouts, twisting my wrist backwards slightly. "Didn't I tell you couldn't get out of this, that I won't let you go? Didn't I?" He presses harder, and I let out a small whimper. I can feel blood snaking down my arm. He must have popped the stitches.

"I told you, Yamato. Your body, your life, is mine. All mine, and no one else's. That's why you exist. To belong to me. That's why you live. For me. Now tell me. Tell me you understand perfectly. Tell me you won't do something so stupid again."

Crying openly now, I open my mouth to tell him, if only to get him to _let go of my wrist_, but before I can get any words out, he presses back even farther on my wrist and I find myself letting out a quick, shrill scream of intense pain as a loud snap pierces through the air.

Momentarily surprised, he lets go of my wrist, and I fall back into the couch, crying and cradling my wrist to my chest, trying not to pass out from the pain. My wrist. He's broken my wrist.

From the way he quickly recovers and then smiles at me, I can tell he knows it too.

"Oops. Did I hurt you, Yamato? Here, I have an idea that you will feel better," he says, smirking. Roughly, he reaches over and yanks me to my feet, using my broken wrist to do so. The sudden movement sends jagged bolts of pain racing up and down my arm, and I scream.

Still smirking, he starts to undo my jeans, and I begin to tremble, knowing what's coming. I want to fight him off, but I'm scared and I'm hurt, and ultimately I know it won't do any good. Dad won't be home for hours. Most of the other building tenants are at work or school. There's no one to save me.

Eventually, with a little reluctant help from me, I'm standing before him nude. He's still fully clothed, but I know that doesn't matter. He never undresses, only shoves down his jeans as far as necessary when he's ready.

He looks me up and down slowly for a moment, humming in approval. I flush with shame and anger, hating that he's treating me like a piece of meat on display. Then he begins to gently trail his fingers down the length of my cock, teasing me.

I close my eyes, trying to will myself anywhere but here. His touch feels good, and I hate myself for it. He wraps his palm around me, stroking slowly, and despite myself, I'm starting to become aroused. It's not the first time, and it's probably not the last, but each time it happens I hate myself a little more. I wish I could stop it, wish I could make my body not react, but no matter what it always does. It doesn't help that he knows this and takes advantage of it, purposely working to get me hard before he has his way with me.

When I'm completely hard and he's satisfied, he lets go of me. I open my eyes again, watching for what's to come next.

But it's not what I'm expecting. Instead, he grins at me, a very unpleasant grin, and gestures to my erection. "You seem to have a little problem there, Yamato. Why don't you take care of it?"

Huh? I stare at him, not sure if I'm understanding him correctly. Does he want me to jerk myself off?

"Come on, Yamato. I don't have all day here. I want to see you make yourself come, and I mean now!" he shouts impatiently, his voice rising on the last word. "Don't forget I have a knife," he warns.

I can feel my cheeks flush hot with embarrassment and anger, but I reach down with my left hand to do as he says. It's a little awkward, using a hand I'm not used to, but somehow I manage. I try to do it as swiftly as possible, willing myself to come so I can end this humiliation.

It doesn't take long, and soon I'm coming, shooting out onto my hand and the floor. For a few moments the only sound in the room is my harsh panting as I fight to come down fast from the high of orgasm.

I want to be dead.

When I've caught my breath I look towards him, and I'm surprised to find him with his jeans undone and his cock out, lazily stroking himself.

"I thought we'd try another attempt at something from last time," he says, not even acknowledging my little masturbation show. "You're going to suck me again, and this time when I come, you _will_ swallow every drop. You will not spit any out. Do you understand?"

I nod, more hot tears pricking at my eyes, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of crying. I've done enough of that in front of him already. I drop to my knees when he motions, and he grabs a handful of my hair, pulling me forward until my head is right in front of his crotch. I stare at the erection in front of my face, feeling sick. I don't want to do this.

"_Now_," he says, voice cold.

After another moment of hesitation, I open my mouth and lean forward, wrapping my lips around just the head and sucking lightly.

"_Yes_," he moans, and tries to push himself in deeper. "More. And use your tongue."

I do as he says, feeling a wave of nausea roll over me when I touch my tongue to his slit and the salty taste of his precome immediately floods my mouth.

I try to think about anything other than what I'm doing as I suck him, but I'm all too aware of everything when he starts instinctively thrusting into my mouth, driving his cock deeper down my throat. I gag and nearly choke, fighting more waves of nausea, but he doesn't let up.

After what feels like an eternity he's coming, spilling down my throat. I remember his words and start swallowing, though it's taking everything in me to not throw it all back up. It tastes disgusting, warm and salty with a weird aftertaste. I want to spit it back in his face.

He forces me to lick him clean, and then finally he's leaving, his limp cock slipping out of my mouth. I'm humiliated and ashamed and _angry_, and I want desperately to cry. I want this to stop. I want to tell someone without having to fear for my life. I want to go back in time and tell someone after the first time it happened, instead of brushing it off and saying it was okay.

I want this nightmare to end. But as he pushes me down on the floor, onto all fours and lines himself up behind me, well, I'm starting to think it'll never end.

x x x

I shut the door behind me with a sigh, exhausted after another strenuous day at the station. More so because I've been worried about Yamato all day, wondering how he was doing by himself, hoping I wouldn't come home to a repeat of a few days ago.

I shed my coat and flip the light switch, wanting nothing more than to relax on the couch with a cold beer and some mind numbing tv. Instead, I let out a choked cry at the sigh that greets me.

Yamato's huddled into a little ball in the middle of the floor, completely naked and trembling. His clothes are scattered around him, and there's some vomit on his shirt. I don't know how I didn't notice the smell when I walked in. He's also crying silently, rocking back and forth slightly, and there's dried blood streaking down his right arm.

"Oh God," I breathed out. "Yamato!" I rush over and crouch down next to him, gently laying a hand on his left arm. "Yamato?"

He doesn't react. I'm not sure he even realizes I'm there.

"Yamato?" I try again. "Come on, buddy, speak to me. It's alright, you're okay now." I continue to speak to him softly, calmly, and gradually he starts to respond.

"Dad?" he says, looking up at me, and there's so much fear and pain in his eyes, my heart aches for him. There's no doubt in my mind now, whoever Yamato had sex with, it wasn't consensual. Some sick monster has been hurting-_raping_-my boy, enough to force him to suicide.

"Yeah, it's me, buddy," I say to him quietly. "Come on, let's get you off this floor, huh?"

He bites down on his lip, and nods.

Between the two of us we manage to get him standing, and I grab a blanket off the back of the couch for him to wrap up in. I head to his room briefly and get him some fresh clothes. He takes them from me gratefully, both of us ignoring the ones lying on the floor.

I turn my back while he dresses, closing my eyes when I hear whimpers of pain coming from him. I realize suddenly that I'm _angry_. Angry that someone's hurt him, angry that he won't tell me anything, angry that I couldn't protect him from it...

The last thing Yamato needs is for me to be angry right now though. I take a deep breath and count to ten in my head, calming myself. When I feel it's under control, I turn back around and attempt to smile reassuringly at him. I'm sure I fail, but oh well.

"I think we need to get you back to hospital," I tell him.

Immediately his eyes widen and he shakes wildly, strands of hair flying every which way. "No! Not again! No more hospital!"

"Yamato, you're hurt," I say.

"I'm fine."

"You should at least get your wrist looked at," I point out reasonably. "I saw dried blood, which suggests to me that your stitches came undone."

"I'm fine," he says again. "Just bandage my wrist, it's nothing."

"You risk more infection that way... come on, it'll just be a quick trip down, we'll get your wrist re-stitched and bandaged and then come right back home, I promise."

"No!" he shouts. He jumps out, and begins to retreat towards the hallway. "I'm not going, and you can't make me! No more hospital!"

I stare at him, rather surprised. He seems on the verge of panicking, and I can't begin to fathom why. I let out a sigh, and rub my forehead. I'm getting a headache.

"Alright," I say at last. "How about this: I give Akira a call, and see if he'd be willing to come look you over. If he says you're fine, we'll just bandage you up and stay home. But if he says you need to go back to the hospital, then we're going back without argument. Agreed?"

He looks at me, confusion written all over his face. "You'd have Dr. Kaos come here?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," I remind him. "He came over a few times when you were younger and sick with the flu."

"Yeah, but..." he trails off.

"We've been friends for a long time, Yamato, and he's known you most of your life. He cares about you. If I ask, he'll come over."

He gives a little half-shrug. "Fine, call him," he mumbles.

Relief washes over me. I know that once Akira gets here, it won't take him long to agree with me that Yamato should go back to the hospital. I glance down at my watch. It's after seven. He's probably at home by now.

I go over to the phone and impatiently dial his number. He answers on the second ring.

"Kaos residence, Kaos speaking."

"Akira, it's Masaharu. Can you do me a favour?"

"Of course," he says warmly. "Anything. What is it?"

"I think Yamato's managed to pop the stitches on one of his wrists, but he's refusing to go back to the hospital. Any chance you could come over and give a look?"

"Think?" he says, and then immediately after, "Never mind. I'll be there. Give me twenty minutes."

"No problem. Thank you so much."

The twenty minutes pass slowly. I sit down on the couch next to Yamato, wanting to say something to him, but not knowing where to start. I look over to his clothes still on the floor and briefly consider doing something about them, but then decide to leave them.

At last there's the knock I'm waiting for. I get up and let him in, saying "Thanks for coming, and sorry for the trouble."

"It's no trouble," he reassures me. He looks over at my son, sitting on the couch so forlornly. "Hello, Yamato. I hear you had a little trouble with your stitches."

Yamato just shrugs at him.

x x x

I don't want to be here. It seems to be a common theme in my life lately. But I don't want Dr. Kaos looking at my wrist. And I don't want my dad here. I can't believe I zoned out for so long after _he_ left. I didn't mean for Dad to come home and find me like that. I'm sure he's got a good idea of what happened to me now, even if he hasn't said anything about it.

"Mind if I take a look?"

I shrug again. "If you insist," I mutter sullenly. He comes over to me and I slowly extend my arm towards him, wincing as the movement jars my broken bones. I know it won't take him long to figure out there's more wrong than just the stitches.

He crouches down in front of me and begins to inspect my wound. It doesn't escape his notice that my whole wrist is swollen and puffy, either. Not to mention the odd angle it's bent at, and the fact that there are finger-shaped bruises around it.

"Well, Yamato, your dad is right. You need to go back to the hospital," he says a few minutes later, standing back up.

"What? No!" I cry. "Can't you just fix it here?"

"Well, I could probably stitch up the wound, although it would hurt like hell, but I don't have any way of setting and plastering the broken wrist."

I wince and close my eyes momentarily, even as I hear Dad going "What!" in the background. "It's... it's nothing," I say feebly.

"A very painful nothing, I'm sure," Dr. Kaos replies dryly.

"Alright," Dad says. "That's it. We're going back to the hospital then. No arguments. That was the deal, remember?"

I nod and swallow down the rest of my protests. I know I'm just being stupid anyways. I can't exactly walk around the rest of my life with a broken wrist. I know I have to go back to the hospital, and I don't know why I expected Dr. Kaos to say different.

It just that somehow he found out before, even though I told no one, and I'm afraid if I go back he'll find out again, and think I said something this time, or told the truth, and he'll get mad...

"Yamato?"

"Okay," I say quietly. "Alright. I'll go. Can I at least shower first?" I don't want to chance them examining me anywhere else again and finding more... evidence. Besides, I do feel pretty dirty. I can still feel him on me, in me, all over. I need to wash it away. I need to be clean.

"Shower?" Dad asks incredulously, but Dr. Kaos holds up a hand toward him.

"It's fine," he says, smiling warmly at me. "Go ahead. We'll wait. Just be careful with that wrist."

"Right," I mumble, and flee the room.

x x x

As soon as he's gone and we can hear the water running, Akira turns toward me. "What happened?" he asks immediately.

I sigh and walk back to the couch, sitting down heavily. I bury my head in my hands for a moment, trying to will away the pain in my head and the ache in my heart.

"Masaharu?" he asks gently.

I lift my head back up. "I don't actually know. I left him home... he convinced me to go to work. He called me a few times, to check in. He seemed fine. But I came home and found him huddled up on the floor naked and trembling. His clothes were..." I motion towards them.

"I had noticed them."

"I just don't know," I say helplessly. "He won't say anything. I didn't even bother to ask him about this. I... I didn't even realize his wrist was broken. I wouldn't have known there was anything wrong with it if I hadn't spotted the blood."

"It isn't your fault."

"I shouldn't have left him home alone."

"You had no way of knowing something like that could happen."

"I suspected. _You_ suspected."

"I suspected he was raped. A one-time thing. I didn't suspect ongoing sexual abuse. Neither I _nor you_ had any way of knowing it wasn't safe to leave him home alone."

"I'm his father," I whisper. "I should be able to protect him."

"Sometimes you can't protect them from everything."

How well I know it.

x x x

By the time we reach the hospital, my wrist is throbbing and screaming in pure agony. Every little bump in the road the car went over sent little sparks of pain shooting through my arm. I want nothing more than to pass out just so I can stop feeling it.

"Alright there, Yamato?" Dad asks me. We're sitting in a private exam room, waiting on Dr. Kaos to come back and let us know he's ready for me.

I shake my head. "Hurts," I say hoarsely.

Dad looks pained at this. "I know, buddy. I'm sorry. Just a little longer. We'll get it fixed."

I let out a half laugh, half sob sort of thing at that. If only it could be that easy.

A few hours later finds me in another hospital bed. There was no real medical reason to admit me, but Dr. Kaos made up some reason about wanting to observe me and make sure I didn't develop an infection. He and Dad seem to think I'll be safer staying here.

I did try to protest, to argue that it would be worse for me to stay in the hospital, but they didn't listen. They don't believe me because they don't understand. Without telling them the truth, I can't make them see why staying in the hospital is bad, that it'll only make _him_ angry if he can't get at me, and that'll he probably hurt me worse when I finally go back home.

So they stuck me in a room, gave me some painkillers, and told me to rest. I gave up protesting, and now I'm lying here on my side, curled up into myself and trying not to cry. Dad left a little while ago to go find the cafeteria and grab some food, so I'm completely alone.

I just want everything to be done and over with. I want him to stop hurting me. I wish with all my heart that I hadn't said, "It's okay," after that first time, because it really _wasn't_ okay. But we'd been so close, and I didn't want to change or lose that friendship. And I stupidly believed him when he said he hadn't meant it, that he was sorry and it'd never happen again.

Why, oh why, had I said it was okay? Why had I trusted him so easily again, enough to let him back into my house, into my room...

I want to tell someone, but I'm so scared. Scared of him finding out, scared of what he might do... scared that Dad won't be able to protect me from him.

Scared that no one will believe me.

I don't want my friends to think that I'm lying, or just trying to get him in trouble or something. I don't really want them to know at all, but if I tell Dad, I'm sure it would get out to everyone else somehow.

God, this isn't fair. I hate this, I hate it all, hate everything... This was never what I wanted.

I begin to sob softly, feeling so worn out and worthless, and eventually I cry myself to sleep.

It's the constant throbbing of my wrist that wakes me.

I open my eyes to the late afternoon sun reluctantly, already wishing that I was at home, at school... anywhere but this damn hospital.

I look around the room, only a little surprised to find myself alone. Perhaps with me here Dad felt safe enough to go back to work.

Then _he_ steps out of the bathroom, and I nearly throw up. _What the hell._

I can already feel myself beginning to tremble. "Wh-what are you doing here?" I manage to croak out. _And how did you know I was here?_ I add silently.

He grins. "I hung around after I left. I was interested to note your visitor, and decided to follow when you three left. Funnily enough it led me here." He comes over, and leans in close to me. His voice is lower when he speaks again, more rough. "You better not have told them anything," he says menacingly. "And you better be out of this hospital by tomorrow afternoon."

"I didn't tell!" I cry. "I didn't say anything!" But by then I'm only speaking to the small fake ivy plant on the bedside table. He's already gone.

I swallow, tears pricking at my eyes.

Dad comes after work, and I do my best to convince him to let me leave the hospital.

"Please, Dad. I feel fine! I'm okay now, I don't need to be here. It's only tying up a bed and racking up more money. And it's boring here, there's nothing to do! I just want to go home. I'll be fine there. Please let me leave!"

"I'm sorry, Yamato, I just don't feel safe having you home alone right now. If you want to leave that badly, I can see about having you go stay with Takeru-"

"No!" I nearly shout. "No. If I do that then he'll see-he'll know-"

"Then you just need to stay here a bit longer. I'm looking into getting the locks changed and having a deadbolt installed on the door. Once that's done you can come back home, and stay by yourself until you're healed enough to go back to school." Dad gives me a sympathetic look. "I know it's boring here, but it's only for a few days, and it's better this way."

_No, it isn't_, I think, but I don't bother to tell him that. I know he won't understand.

I'm finally allowed home again. It's been three days. There are new locks on the door. Including both a chain lock and a very sturdy looking deadbolt. Even though I know it won't really help much, it still makes me feel a bit safer.

Dad wanted to stay home with me, but I told him that he'd smother me and pointed out that with the locks I'd be safe now so the station probably needed him more than I did. None of which is true, but it got him to leave. And I'd rather he leave so that _he_ will show up and punish me for not being home when he told me to, and we can just get the whole thing over with and out of the way.

I'm staring blankly at the tv, not paying any attention to the music program that's on, when I finally hear the sound that I've been both waiting for and completely dreading. A key trying to go in the lock. It doesn't fit anymore, of course, and it doesn't take him long to realize this.

"Yamato!" he hollers. "Open up!"

I stare at the door, and consider what might happen if I ignore him. He goes away and leaves me alone forever (yeah right). He waits until I have to leave, and then attacks me (probable) and possibly kills me (likely). He goes after my brother or one of my friends (I'd kill myself and succeed then).

"Yamato!" he hollers again, pounding on the door. He sounds very angry. It makes me feel frightened, and before I know it I'm up and rushing over to the door, letting him in.

His face darkens when he spots all the new locks, and he glares at me. "What is all this?" he snarls.

"I _didn't_ tell!" I pre-emptively defend myself. "I swear! My dad's been meaning to change the locks for ages, and he just finally got around to it. That's all!"

He glares at me some more, then looks back at the door suspiciously. "From now on, these stay unlocked when you're home alone, do you understand?"

I nod right away. Anything to appease him and make it easier on me.

"Fine," he says, dismissive. "Now, I'm here to teach you a lesson. One I thought you had learned last time, but it seems apparently not. Otherwise you would have been out of that hospital when I told you."

"Listen, I tried," I plead. "But my doctor-"

"Shut up!" he yells, and I'm completely caught off guard when he backhands me across the face. "Shut up," he says again. "I'm not interested in your pathetic little excuses. Now get down on your knees."

I stare at him.

"On. Your. Knees," he repeats. I comply.

It's worse this time, because I'm not sucking him off so much as he's fucking my face, one hand fisted in my hair, shoving his dick deeper and deeper into my throat. I'm continuously gagging, and trying desperately to draw breaths in through my nose, my hands clawing at his legs, wanting to shove him off, but instead it only spurs him on. He starts thrusting harder, and it seems forever before his come is hitting the back of my throat. I start coughing, choking on it a bit, but swallow it all down nonetheless. The taste hasn't improved.

At last he pulls away, and I can breathe easy again. But my relief is short-lived, because directly after he starts divesting me of my jeans and boxers, pushing me towards the couch. He doesn't even bother with my shirt, and somehow that's more humiliating than being completely naked in front of him.

Then his own jeans go down, and he's behind me, already hard again, pushing in, stretching me, splitting me. It's never gotten any easier, no matter how many times he's done it by now. I know he'll have left me bleeding and torn again when he's finished. At this point, I've almost become numb to how it makes me feel.

His thrusts are hard and fast and deep, and every so often he hits against my prostate, sending little bursts of pleasure through me that I despise. I know I'm getting hard.

I refuse to cry.

Thankfully it's not long before his hips start jerking and he's coming, splashing hot and filthy inside me. It makes me sick to my stomach, but I still won't cry. Not anymore.

I wait for him to pull out, but instead he only lies there, collapsed on top of my back. I can feel his warm breath ghosting across my neck, and I shiver. I'm still hard, but I ignore it, hoping that maybe it'll go away on its own. What is he waiting for?

"You're such a good fuck, Yamato," he suddenly whispers into my ear. I jerk slightly, startled. What is he going on about? "That sweet, tight little hole of yours... God," he moans. "Feels so good, encasing my dick, and so warm... I love it."

_Oh God..._ My eyes widen in horror as I realize just what he was waiting for. Why he stayed inside me, instead of pulling out. He's making himself hard again, saying such disgusting things to me. "No," I moan, shaking my head. I'm on the verge of crying now, but still hold back. "No, please."

I feel dirty. Dirty and worthless and ashamed. I loathe myself, more than I ever have before.

"Oh yes," he says, voice husky, already half hard, and I feel a couple tears slip out and trail down my cheeks. "That's right... so fuckable, you're such a slut, you're my slut, and I love it. My little bitch, with your deliciously tight hole, you're all mine, no one else's, just mine..."

In this instant I feel like a slut. Like a common dirty whore, good only for being fucked because I deserve nothing more.

He's nearly completely hard again now, and he begins to pull out of me, only to give a slow, languid thrust back in. He moans again, and it's so lewd, so dirty-sounding that I find I'm actually embarrassed by it, for both our sakes.

I lose track of how many times he fucks me. I lose track of how many times I end up coming against my will, wishing desperately each time that I were dead. I don't really remember at what point he pulled out and threw me on the couch proper, flipping me over so he could fuck me face-to-face, my legs thrown awkwardly over his shoulders. Instead I just float, in a haze of pain and self-loathing, barely even noticing when at last he pulls out of me and starts fumbling around on the floor for his jeans.

I do, however, notice when he pulls out the knife from his pocket. "Wha-?"

"A warning," he says, putting the point to the inside of my thigh and pressing down just enough. I look down as a bead of bloods wells up. He drags the knife down, leaving a thin red line in its wake. I follow its path with my eyes, watching in morbid fascination. The pain barely even registers at this point.

He gets his jeans on, and looks down at me with cold, hard eyes. "When I tell you to do something, you do it. And remember this moment the next time you think about telling someone."

And with that he's gone, slamming the door behind him. I let out the breath I hadn't been aware of holding, and surprise myself by bursting into tears.

x x x

"Alright, that's it for me. I'm outta here. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"See ya, Ishida. Have a good night."

"Thanks, you too." I begin to head out, anxious to get home to Yamato. It's been two hours since he last called. He was supposed to call me every hour, to let me know that he was fine and still safe. After he missed the hour, I gave him fifteen minutes and called him, but got no answer. Three more fifteen minute checks, and still nothing. I can't wait anymore. If something's happened...

I curse the new locks as I struggle to undo them, but when I get inside I see to my relief that Yamato's sleeping peacefully on the couch, fully clothed. Nothing in the area looks disturbed. I breathe out, the worry leaving me in a rush.

I just stand there for a few moments, watching him while he rests. Even though he's seventeen, in this moment he looks so much younger. Sleep has smoothed out the worry in his face, and hidden the pain that's often reflected in his eyes. Right now it's easy to pretend he's just like any other normal seventeen year old, with his usual worries of grades, crushes, friends, and band practices. Easy to pretend that he hasn't been through hell, hasn't tried to end his own life.

If only it could still be that simple.

He shifts in his sleep then, murmuring slightly. I cross the room to him and reach down, brushing back his hair. The touch seems to startle him, and he jerks awake, looking up at me in confusion. "Dad?" he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

"Hey," I greet him softly. "Sorry I woke you. I just got home."

"Oh..." he sits up, and looks at the clock on the wall over the tv. "Sorry, I missed my last call..."

"It's alright. I'll admit, I was worried, but I'm not surprised you fell asleep. You've been so worn out lately."

He shrugs, I guess not having any response to that.

"You're okay?" I ask him, wanting to be extra sure.

"Sure. I'm fine, Dad. No need to worry."

"Alright then. Have you eaten? I think I could use some food."

He shakes his head. "Not hungry. You go ahead. I think I just want to get some more sleep, honestly."

"Okay." I leave him there and head for the kitchen, checking the fridge for leftovers. After I managed to burn a pan while boiling nothing but water, Yamato no longer allows me to cook unsupervised.

I find some leftover tonkatsu and easily turn it into a sandwich, washing it down with one of Yamato's bottles of Ramune. When I'm done I head back into the living room to ask Yamato for his laundry, but instead I find him already asleep again.

Mentally shrugging, I leave him be and head down the hall to his room to grab it myself.

I gather up all the clothes I can find on the floor and am just about to leave when something catches my eye. I look towards his bed. There's one of our bathroom towels half-shoved under his pillow. I frown and come closer. There's a few random spots on it. They're a dark, rusty red colour.

They look a lot like dried blood.

My heart starts beating a little faster, and I realize I'm a little scared. I shift all of Yamato's clothes up under my other arm, and reach out to grab the towel. It's still damp to the touch. As if it was only used a couple of hours ago.

I can feel another headache coming on. I try not to panic, telling myself the blood on the towel could be anything, but it's hard. Still, he told me he was fine-it's not a lot of blood, and he could have injured himself in any number of ways that don't require another person.

It's easier to tell myself that than to actually believe it, though.

x x x

I miss Taichi. It's boring sitting around my apartment all day with nothing to do. I want to see my friends and my brother again. I want to hang out with my band and talk shit about nothing.

Apparently some of them have actually called, but so far Dad's kept them at bay by telling them I've got a bad case of the flu. It's only been about a week and a half, so it's a plausible (if a bit stretched thin) excuse so far. And I'm sure it's easier to believe since even Takeru hasn't been allowed to see me.

But I've been stuck in this apartment mostly alone for another three days, and I'm about to go spare. TV puts me to sleep, video games frustrate me, and I can't seem to focus on writing or practicing any songs. I've spent too much time sleeping lately, and I'm sick of it.

I'd like to go out, but I'm too scared to. Scared that I'll run into him, or worse, one of my friends. And then there's the fact that strangers will probably stare at my wrists, and I'll feel ashamed and uncomfortable and wind up fleeing back home. No, it's easier to just stay at home. Even if it means getting stuck in my thoughts again...

Far too often lately I find myself falling back into memories I never wanted. It leaves me feeling used and dirty. I want a shower.

I grab a towel from the laundry and lock myself in the bathroom, turning the water as hot as it will go. I strip and climb in, not even taking notice of the scalding temperature. I've taken too many showers this way these past few months.

I don't know how long I stay in there, staring blankly at the wall and absently scrubbing at my skin, trying to wash the taint off my soul, but when I come back to myself the water's gone cold. I shut it off, wincing as I note the raw look to my arms. Hopefully Dad won't say anything about it.

I towel off and dress in my same clothes.

I head out and go down the hall to my room, stopping short in the doorway. _He's_ there, lounging casually on my bed for all the world like he owns it. He hasn't been in my room since that second time, and seeing him sitting there, seemingly without a care in the world, I feel more violated than any of the times he's ever been inside me.

I don't even think, really. I just storm in, enraged and snarling. "What the hell are you doing in here? Get out!" I shout, and I haven't shown this much outward anger towards him since before everything began. It feels _good_. It's reckless and crazy and dangerous, and I like it.

He jumps off my bed, eyes flashing angrily. "You don't tell me what to do."

"I do when you're invading my room and my bed. Get the fuck out." Despite myself, I'm beginning to feel that familiar spark of fear again, the fear that kept me from telling someone and stopping all this madness. The fear that insists I do what he says lest he kills me.

"I don't think so. I'm not leaving until I get what I came for." He starts advancing towards me. His face is dark and ugly with rage, but even though I'm definitely afraid now, I stand my ground.

"You're not getting it. I'm through with this. I'm not going to let you do this to me anymore. _Get. Out._" I don't know where all the courage is coming from. Courage is generally more Taichi's thing, but I suppose I can't be friends with him for six years without picking up a bit from him.

"You don't get to decide that!" he yells. "I told you before, you're mine! _Mine_. _I'm_ the one that decides when this ends, and it's not ending yet! I'm not letting you go!" He rushes forward suddenly, one hand reaching down into his pocket, and it only takes me a second to realize what he must be reaching for.

Shit. I turn and bolt, back down the hallway, not even sure of where I'm trying to go, just knowing I need to get away from him before he pulls that knife out. All that courage is gone now. Oh god, oh god, why did I push him? Why did I make him angry? He's going to kill me now! I don't want to die! Not by his hand! Fuck, I've got to get out of here, _now_.

I can hear his footsteps behind me as I run down the hall, and I'm panicking, not thinking clearly. I pass the bathroom and dad's room, running into the kitchen, thankful that his grabbing his knife slowed him down and gave me a few precious seconds. If I can just get out of the apartment, out of the building, I'll be safe. He wouldn't dare do anything in public, with other people around.

Unfortunately, I'm running blindly, only thinking about getting to the door, so I completely miss the kitchen chair as I crash right into it. I go flying, landing on the tiled floor with a painful 'oof' as all the air gets knocked out of me. I don't have time though, he's right behind me, my legs are tangled up in the chair and I'm trying to get up, trying to break free, but he's on top of me now, shouting in my face, his fists are swinging wildly and the knife's still grasped tightly in one of them _and I don't want to die like this_.

"Don't kill me, please don't kill me, I'm sorry, so sorry, I won't do it again, please please," I babble, hardly aware of the words coming out of my mouth, but it doesn't do any good.

"_Please_," I moan, but then he's stabbing the knife into my shoulder and I close my eyes, bracing myself for the pain. There is none, though, at least not at first. There's just the feel of the blood, warm and wet and growing. I hear a door slam in the distance and realize I don't feel his weight atop of me anymore. I open my eyes to find myself alone.

Slowly, I drag myself to a sitting position, wincing as I start to feel the first twinges of pain. It's a low, dull sort of throbbing, but still bearable for the moment. I'm more concerned about the blood. I need to stop it.

Somehow, I get free of the chair and climb to my feet, swaying a bit once I'm standing upright. I'm feeling a bit lightheaded. And a bit sick. I need a towel. Right.

I stumble down the hallway, back towards the bathroom. I left my towel in there after my shower. I use the hallway to brace myself. I'm really dizzy now, and when I look back behind me there's a trail of blood spots. Do all stab wounds bleed so much? It's starting to hurt a bit worse now, throbbing a little more intensely.

I keep seeing black spots dancing around me. Everything's kind of gray and faded around the edges. It's kind of interesting, except I think it means I'm about to pass about.

I'm almost there. I take another step, and fall.

x x x

There's blood all over the floor. I'm motionless in the doorway to the kitchen, just standing and staring at the frightening scene before me.

It's not really much of a scene. There's a chair tipped over on the floor, a puddle of drying blood near it, and a trail of smaller droplets leading off into the hallway.

Amazing how those two things can make my heart nearly stop.

"Yamato?" I whisper.

I'm almost afraid to follow the blood trail. Afraid of what it'll lead to me. Afraid I'll find my son at the end of it, dead.

"Yamato?" I say again, a bit louder this time. Hoping that he's still alive, still able to respond.

But there's no answer.

Screwing up my courage, I step into the kitchen, past the chair, past the puddle. Down into the hallway, looking towards the end.

"Yamato!" He's in the doorway of the bathroom, a pale crumpled heap. I hurry over to him, leaning down to check him out. I don't see the source of the blood, but I'm very relieved to hear him breathing, even if they're raspy, shallow breaths. Carefully I maneuver him onto his back, stretching him out, spotting the shoulder wound immediately. He's been stabbed.

I've got the cell halfway to my ear before I realize I've called Akira's home number instead of EMS. But at this point I don't even care.

"Kaos residence, Kaos speaking."

"Akira-" I have to stop suddenly, choking up as the enormity of the situation hits me. Yamato's been stabbed. _My son has been stabbed._ He's passed out on the bathroom floor, probably from blood loss, and barely breathing. He could die. I could lose him. I'm going through this again.

"Ishida? Masaharu, is that you?"

Right. Gotta pull it together. Yamato needs me. "Yes. Can you-Please, meet me at the hospital right away. Yamato's been-someone stabbed him. I want you there with him."

"I'll be right there."

He disconnects, and I waste no time, immediately dialing EMS. They promise to send an ambulance right away.

The waiting is always the worst part. I was allowed to ride in the ambulance with him, but they rushed him away to an OR the second we arrived at the hospital, and I was left to stand alone in the hallway. Akira found me a few minutes later, and led me to a waiting room, where he got me the admittance forms to fill out, something to distract me and take my mind off Yamato.

He offered to stay and wait with me, but I shook my head no. "Please, go find Yamato. See what's going on. Make sure he's gonna be okay."

He agreed, and left. He still hasn't come back. I don't know whether to take that as a good or bad sign.

Please, let Yamato be okay. Don't let him die. I can't lose him. I can't go through that. He's all I've got left.

It's some hours later before Akira finds me again, standing before me looking completely exhausted. I try to read his face for clues, but he's impassive.

"Yamato?" I say quietly.

He nods. "He's fine for now. Stable. They've got him in a private room. He's still knocked out from the anaesthesia, and the morphine drip will probably have him under for most of tomorrow as well."

I nod, expecting no less. "Can I see him?" I ask, not caring about any more of the particulars. Yamato's alive and okay, that's all that matters right now. The details can come later.

"Of course. I'll take you."

I follow him down the halls to Yamato's room silently, lost in my thoughts and worry for my son. I'm very tempted to call the police after this latest incident, but I'm not sure how much good it would do.

So far Yamato hasn't talked, hasn't even admitted he's been-abused. I don't know who's hurting him. I don't know who stabbed him. There's the DNA sample they recovered from Yamato that first stay in the hospital, but with no sample to compare it to, it's likely useless. Hell, his injuries didn't even point to anything conclusive. Unless Yamato is willing to talk, there's nothing much to really go on.

This whole situation pisses me off. I feel so useless, so completely _helpless_, and I hate it. I know I've never been the greatest father, but that I can't even protect him from something like this... I'm almost ashamed to even still call myself his father.

x x x

I come back to the world of the living slowly. The first thing I'm aware of is a steady beeping somewhere off to my right. I realize that I'm lying in a bed, most likely a hospital one. I don't feel any pain, but I'm incredibly exhausted and my head seems a bit foggy.

When I finally open my eyes, the bright light hurts and I wince, letting out a small noise of discomfort.

There's a rustle of clothes to my left, and then someone's standing over me. "Yamato?" It sounds like my dad. "You awake?"

"Mmhmm," I mumble incoherently. "...'wake..."

"How are you feeling?" Dad asks.

I look up at him, slowly adjusting to the brightness. He looks both worried and relieved, something I didn't think was possible. I pause for a moment to assess the answer to his question. "Thirsty," I finally whisper.

Immediately Dad grabs a glass of water off the bedside table, placing the straw up to my lips so I can suck. "Slowly," he warns me.

I try to do as he says, but the cool liquid feels so good sliding down, soothing my dry throat, that I can't help but drink it fast, trying to get as much as possible. He pulls it away after a moment, and I whine. "I'll give you some more shortly," he reassures. "You've been more or less out for two days though, you've gotta take it easy."

Two days? I can't even recall going to the hospital in the first place. What could be bad enough to put me here and knock me out for two days?

Dad must see the confusion written on my face, because he sighs and quietly informs me that he came home from work a few days ago to find me unconscious on the bathroom floor with a stab wound just below my shoulder.

"Wha...?" I try to think back through the haze, but it's hard. I remember something about a chair, and a towel...?

"Don't worry if you can't remember." He gives me the straw again, and I drink it down greedily. "You're still a bit doped up on the good painkillers right now. It'll start coming back as they begin to wear off."

Hmm. "High?"

He grins at that. "You were yesterday. You woke once. Not so much now though, they've stopped the morphine drip."

Oh well. "Tired," I say.

Dad smiles. It looks a bit sad. "That's not surprising. Get some more sleep for now. I'll be here when you wake again."

I frown, taking a moment to really look at him. There's two days worth of beard stubble across his jaw. His clothes are rumpled and a bit askew. His hair looks dirty and unwashed, and there's dark hollows under his eyes. I realize he's probably not left the hospital since I was brought here.

"Go home," I tell him, my voice hoarse. "Shower... change. Sleep. 'M fine."

Dad shakes his head. "I'm good right now. I don't want to leave you."

I try to give him my best glare, which under the circumstances isn't much. "_Go_," I insist. "Please. Want you to." I close my eyes, losing the battle to stay awake.

I'm pleased to hear the rattle of keys right before I slip back into darkness.

When I wake again, it's dark out and I'm alone. Dad must still be back at the apartment. Hopefully he's sleeping.

I feel a lot more clearheaded this time. I can remember what happened, why I must be in the hospital. I remember the fight, getting stabbed... trying to get to the bathroom to stop the blood before I passed out. Apparently I hadn't made it.

I just... I can't believe he actually stabbed me. Sure, he threatened to tons of times, and of course I've always been afraid of that threat, but still there was some part of me... some part that believed the old him had to be in there somewhere and that he wouldn't actually do it.

I feel tears begin to roll down my cheeks, but I make no move to wipe them away.

Why? Why is this happening to me? What did I ever do to deserve such pain and hurt, to be abused in such a manner? It isn't fair. I didn't ask for this, I don't want any of it.

I know I'm just wallowing in self-pity here, but right now, I really don't care. My whole life has been ruined-controlled, changed forever-all by one person's hand. Someone I used to trust, hell, used to love and call a close friend. And he betrayed me for it. He took that friendship and trust and threw it all back in my face. I'll never get it back. I don't _want_ it back.

I hate him. I hate myself. Hate that I let him manipulate me, hate that I was too much of a coward to fight back or tell or do anything other than just let it happen. I hate that I hate him. I want my old friend back. I want things to go back to the way they were before. Before everything went to hell.

I roll over, burying my face into my pillow to muffle the sobs.

The apartment looks different this time. I'm not sure why. I was only in the hospital for a week, I really wasn't gone that long. But it seems-I don't know. Bigger, somehow. Emptier.

"Alright there Yamato?"

I nod, walking over to the couch and sitting down. I'm feeling a bit lost. I don't really know what to do with myself. I counted back while I was stuck in bed all that time. I haven't seen anyone other than my Dad and Dr. Kaos-_he_ doesn't count-in seventeen days. Dad told everyone that what we thought was the flu turned out to be mono, and that I'm still too sick to visit. It's funny, I suppose, but I'm not laughing.

I don't know how much longer anyone will buy it.

At least the stitches in my wrists were taken out finally, so as long as I wear long sleeves to hide the one visible scar I can go back to school whenever I feel up to it. The cast can be easily explained away.

"Can I get you anything?" Dad's hovering around me anxiously, looking a bit lost himself. "A drink, something to eat maybe?"

I shake my head, silent.

"You sure?"

"I'm fine," I say softly. "Can we just, I don't know, sit here and watch some tv?"

"Sure," he replies, just as softly. "We can do that." He sits down next to me, grabbing the remote and flipping the tv on. I pull my feet up on the couch and curl into his side, taking comfort in his presence. He puts an arm around my shoulder, mindful of the wound, and begins to surf through the channels, eventually settling on some comedic movie we've both seen and liked before.

I close my eyes and just bask in the feeling of safety, only half listening to the tv. At some point I fall asleep.

I'm alone on the couch the next morning. There's a blanket draped over me, but no other sign of Dad. "Dad?" I call, feeling slightly panicked. Surely he didn't go to work and leave me alone in the apartment. Did he?

"Yes?" The relief I feel when he pops his head in from the kitchen is immense.

I muster up a smile. "Nothing. Just didn't know where you were." Then I pause, suspicious. "Wait. You're not in there _cooking_, are you?"

Dad laughs. "Just coffee."

We spend the day together marathoning movies. It's kind of nice now that Dad's quit pressuring me to talk about what's going on with me. He's usually so busy with work and me with school and my band that we don't get a lot of time together. I can almost make myself forget everything and just pretend it's some random weekend day where we're just having some father/son bonding time and enjoying ourselves.

It all grinds to a halt when the phone rings. It's somewhere around four in the afternoon. Dad reaches over and picks up the receiver while I pause the movie. I watch as he listens to whoever's on the other end. It's not a good phone call, because his face is getting increasingly unhappy and he keeps interjecting random protests every so often. They don't seem to be doing any good. Finally he sighs and says, "Look, I understand the problem, but I can't leave right now. My kid's too sick, I can't leave him home alone."

Ah. It's a work problem. I should have known. "Dad, you should go," I say softly.

"Hold on," he says into the phone. He covers the end of the receiver and looks at me. "No way, buddy. I'm not leaving you here alone anymore. Not after last time."

"You can't stay home with me forever," I point out. "And last time was my fault. I'll be fine this time. Just go. It'll only be for an hour or two."

He narrows his eyes at me. "How exactly was last time _your_ fault?"

I swallow, and look away from him. "I... I might have undone all the locks after you left," I mumble.

"_What?_" He's incredulous, but I still don't look at him. "Never mind. We'll talk about _that_ later. Look at me."

I do so hesitantly.

"If I leave you alone here for a couple hours, do you absolutely swear to me that you'll lock up everything and leave them locked? And you'll call me every half hour until I say that I'm coming back home. And if anyone with an intent to hurt you tries to get in, you will call for help _immediately_."

I look him straight in the eyes and nod. "I swear it, Dad."

I'm not sure, really. I stood up to him last time, and got stabbed for it. If he shows up again, I don't know if I can stay strong and not let him in. He'll always find some other way to get to me.

I can't tell any of this to Dad though, or else he won't leave. And I know his crisis at work must be important. Sure, he spends more time there than necessary most days, but they've only ever called him at home for true emergencies.

And it's only for an hour or two. Probably he won't even show up yet. I'll be fine.

Dad lets out another sigh and uncovers the phone, still looking torn. "Alright. I'll be there as soon as possible. Don't do _anything_ until I get there." He hangs up the phone and looks at me. The movie's long since shut itself off. "Keep that door _locked_. I'm trusting you, Yamato. Please don't let me regret it."

"You won't. Go on, Dad. It'll be okay."

Once he's gone I put the chain on and double check the other locks are all done properly. Then I head into the kitchen and grab a chair from the table. I drag it back into the living room and shove the back of it under the doorknob, leaving it tilted at an odd looking angle.

It doesn't make me feel any safer. Maybe he won't get me today, or tomorrow, or the next day, but at some point I'm going to have to go back out there and live my life again. And unless I speak out against him, he'll always be out there, waiting for the right moment to strike. And next time I may not be so lucky to escape with only a shoulder wound.

But for today, there's nothing more I can really do. I've done what I can to keep him out, the rest just depends on the strength of my courage. Completely abandoning the movie Dad and I were watching, I head back into the kitchen, intent on getting something to eat. I rummage around in the cabinets and finally settle on a bowl of dry cereal. No one's exactly had time or energy to go grocery shopping lately. I don't even want to think about how long that milk's been in the fridge.

I finish eating, and decide to go try and nap on the couch until it's time to call Dad. I don't feel like doing much of anything. I just want Dad to get back home. I grab the blanket off the back and settle down, mindful of both my shoulder and my wrist.

I'm just starting to drift off when I hear it-the distinct sound of the doorknob turning. Someone's trying to get in. I bolt upright, eyes wide, and stare at the door. He doesn't even have to speak for me to know it's him. Blind sided by panic, I throw back the blanket and practically vault myself off the couch, running through the kitchen and down the hall, diving into the first open door-my dad's room. I slam the door and lock it, then jump onto his bed, frantically pulling covers aside and flinging them over my entire bed.

I feel safer this way, far enough away that I can't hear him pounding on the door or yelling at me to let him in. It's easier to not be as scared when I don't have to hear him threatening me.

I stay huddled on dad's bed for quite some time, frozen by my terror. I don't even dare hardly breathe. I have no idea if he's still out there, or if he's given up and gone away. I don't really care. My mind is racing, jumbled thoughts tumbling through it, so many I can barely make sense of it all.

I don't know what I'm doing, standing up to him like this again. I'm just so tired of it all, so tired of living with all this fear and pain and betrayal... so tired of being in turmoil, tired of hating myself... I realize now, I don't want to keep this secret anymore. I don't want to handle it alone. I want to tell someone, to make it all stop.

If I just tell Dad, trust him enough to help me, then maybe it actually _can_ stop and I can get my life back. Dad's told me before he's more than willing to go to the police, and that the hospital had a DNA sample and some other evidence from that first visit. Apparently they'd done some kind of evidence kit on me while I was unconscious, just in case. Back when no one was really sure what was going on yet.

That, along with a name... it'd probably be enough for the police to actually do something about him. Assuming I can be brave enough to say his name. I've avoided saying it for so long, not wanting to associate it with him, not wanting to believe that the person I was friends with and the person hurting me now are really the same person.

But it's been months now, and he hasn't changed back... I think I've got to face that he's not going to. That he's lost to me now, no matter how much that thought hurts.

x x x

I furrow my brow in frustration as I bang my knee on one of our kitchen chairs. It's sitting directly behind the door, blocking the path into the living room, and in the darkening room I didn't notice it.

"Shit." I curse the chair as I rub my aching knee. "What the hell are you doing in here, anyways?" I ask it. Of course I get no reply.

Frowning, I pick up the chair and take it back into the kitchen. I set it down at the table, where I then realize another chair is missing.

"What the hell?" I mutter.

I hear footsteps padding down the hall behind me, and I turn to spot Yamato coming up behind me, the missing chair held in his hands.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Were you perhaps performing some kind of strange sacrificial ritual that happened to require kitchen chairs?"

He blushes slightly, shaking his head. "It's nothing."

I give him a strange look, and then decide to leave him alone. He kept his promise to call and leave the doors locked, and that's enough for me. "I brought some take-out home for supper," I tell him, changing the subject. I hold up the paper bag still in my hand. "Teriyaki burgers. You hungry?"

He eyes the bag with a mild interest, and nods. I watch in amusement as he carries the chair over to the table and then promptly sits down in it. I set the bag down and sit as well, and start pulling out food.

We eat in silence, the mood rather solemn. He seems to have something on his mind, and there's a strange blend of emotions playing across his face as he thinks. I'm not really sure how to interpret them.

Once we're both done, I stand and gather up our trash, tossing it in the bin. I consider heading to the living room to watch a bit of tv, or maybe finish our movie from earlier, but then I notice Yamato has yet to move from the table.

I sit back down and look across at him. "Alright buddy?"

He shakes his head but says, "Yeah, I'm fine."

I blink at that one. I wait for another few quiet minutes, then try again. "I'm willing to listen if you want to talk about anything."

"I know, Dad," he murmurs, but it's not said in the exasperated tone he usually employs of late. It's a good sign, but I don't want to push him and make him retreat again, so I stay quiet and wait for him to talk.

"Ken."

"What?" He speaks so softly, so suddenly that I don't really hear him.

He bites down on his lip, visibly swallowing. "It's Ken. Ichijouji Ken. H-he's the one. That stabbed me. He-he's been... hurting me."

I inhale, taking a deep breath, and then let it back out slowly. I'm horrified. Of course I know very well who Ken is. He and Yamato had become very close friends over the past few years, nearly as close as Yamato and Taichi are. Ken was even one of the ones who'd called and asked after him. He'd wished him a speedy recovery.

He's the one that's been hurting my son so horribly?

"God, Yamato... " I don't really know what to say. "I'm so sorry." I want to kill Ken.

x x x

It's out. It's finally, finally out. I'm both relieved and terrified. Dad looks blown away. He doesn't seem to know what to say. He keeps opening his mouth and then closing again, not able to find any words.

It's alright. I don't know what to say either.

We sit quietly for a bit. "Are you going to tell the police?" I ask eventually.

"Only if you want me to," Dad answers me, serious. "It means you'll have to talk to them, tell them exactly what happened, what he did to you."

I nod, having already realized this. "I-I think I can. I want it to stop, Dad. I want him to go away and never hurt me again."

"He will," Dad promises. "He will, Yamato. And-Thank you. For telling me."

I give him a tremulous smile, ignoring the sudden lump in my throat. A few tears slip out and slide down my face, but I ignore those too. "You're welcome."

No more are there untold secrets between us. Somehow, we'll make it through whatever comes next.

It's over.

_finis_

2011 butterflie June 25, 2011 Saturday 0221AM

Author's Note: When I originally wrote this back in 2001, I had Ken's age upped to fifteen. At the time I was unaware of their correct ages, and thought he'd only be thirteen if I went with his "correct" age, so I added two years to make it slightly less creepy.

I really don't know how I had their ages so screwed up back then.

Now, the big question-to rewrite the sequel, or not?

UPDATE: I've decided to rewrite the sequel. The first chapter is up, and can be found at my fic livejournal. Check my profile for the link, and you can also keep an eye on my profile for progress reports on how the rewrite is coming along. Yes, I made a fake chapter four just to alert people of this.

Also, to those that reviewed the rewrite of this, thank you so much! (: Sorry I didn't respond individually, but I started the rewrite almost immediately and have been so busy with that. Seriously though, I was very surprised to find people still remember and read these two stories. Kinda made _my_ day.


	2. Untold Secrets OLD

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Home Anime Digimon Untold Secrets storyid: 330380 

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Author: Butterflie - NC-17 - English - Angst - Reviews: 57 

Author's Note's: This is probably one of my favorite Digimon stories to date right now. I think I was able to portray Matt's fear and pain in this very well. I also know it's kinda cruel to Matt, but the idea for this story was entirely to good to pass up, so I hope you will all forgive me. Also, to warn you, Matt goes through a lot of sexual and physical abuse in this story, so if that's just not your kind of thing, back out now and head to a story that's not quite so dark. Other than that, please enjoy and give me your guesses on who is abusing Matt, k? I'm interested in knowing who you think it is, because I'm trying very hard not to give away who's hurting Matt. Oh, and for those of you who are following tai3.doc, er...I Am Who I..etc, notice my obsession with the name Kaos? I got it from SailorStars. You know, Chaos, they pronounce it as Ka-o-su in Japanese. I just think it's really cool. I'm also fond of the relationships between the Digidestined and their parents. Especially between Matt and his dad. I love Matt's dad! He's really cool to me for some strange reason. But enough rambling. Onto the story. 

/~~~~/ denotes flashback, ~~~ being whatever's in between //. 

Untold Secrets   
by: Butterflie, fka Crimson Goddess 

"So why did you do it Matt?" dad asked me sadly, staring down at me. 

/Your entire body, your pathetic excuse for a life, it's all worthless. You're mine Ishida. That's the sole purpose of your existence. You live for no other reason. Got that?/ 

I bit down on my lip and didn't answer. 

"Matt? Please tell me. It's important." dad begged me. "I need to know. Did something happen to you? Is it something I've done? Is there some reason you're not happy?" 

I shook my head no to all of those. 

/You tell anybody Yamato, and you're as good as dead. Remember, this is our little secret. Anybody else finds out, I might just have to arrange a date for you and my friend Mr. Knife here./ 

"Matt, why did you slit your wrists? Please, tell me!" 

/And don't think you can try to get out of this either. You belong to me, and I'll be damned if I'll let you go./ 

"Dad, don't tell anybody I tried to kill myself," I whisphered. 

He looked down at me, somewhat relieved that I was finally speaking. "Matt, who would I tell? I just want to know why, that's all." 

I shook my head. "I can't tell you why I did. Just don't tell anybody, please." 

"I won't say anything about it as long as you promise not to try to kill yourself again. I can't lose you Matt. You're all I have left in this world. So promise me you won't slit your wrists or try something else stupid." 

I sighed. "I promise," I muttered reluctantly, not really sure at all whether I'd keep my promise. 

/What, you don't think I can get away with murder? Then maybe you should go talk to Jyou's brother Jim. Oh wait, I forgot, he's dead. You see, Jim didn't want Jyou to be my slave, so he interfered. And me being the nice person that I am, I set him up on a blind date with Mr. Knife. They got along real well./ 

I began to tremble, and dad rushed over to me, worried. "Matt, are you okay? Please, tell me what's wrong!" 

But I still shook my head no. 

~switch p.o.v.~ 

'What happened to my son?' I thought, glancing over at Matt. I saw he was trembling and felt my heart skip a beat as I rushed over to him. 

"Matt, are you okay? Please, tell me what's wrong!" I cried. 

He shook his head, still trembling, but more violently now. 

Just then the door opened and Matt's doctor, Dr. Kaos, motioned for me to step outside. 

"Mr. Ishida, have you gotten anything out of him yet?" 

I shook my head dejectedly. "No, he won't give me a reason for slitting his wrists. But I don't want to push him too much right now. I'm just glad he's alive." 

"Well, I thought it might interest you to know that results show Matt has recently had sexual intercourse prior to slitting his wrists and coming here." 

"So? He's seventeen. Don't you thin-" 

"Mr. Ishida, he had sexual intercourse with another male." 

I stopped mid-sentence, eyebrows raised. "What? Are you sure? Another guy?" Matt with another guy? No way! Not possible. I refuse to believe it. Dr. Kaos just made a mistake. He had to have. No way in hell could Matt have had- 

"Yes, we're completely positive. There were traces of semen found on his thighs and butt." 

Oh my God, no. I hope Matt didn't willingly participate in that act. 

"There was also some dried semen around and in his mouth, suggesting oral sex." Dr. Kaos continued. "I don't know whether he was forced into having sex or he just acted before he thought, but it's more likely than not that was the reason for trying to kill himself." 

Matt... what if he was raped? Is that why he won't tell me, though? Because he's probably embarrassed? 

~switch p.o.v.~ 

I watched listlessly as dad walked back in to the room with Dr. Kaos, both of their faces grave. 

Dad went over and sat on one of the chairs while Dr. Kaos came and stood by my hospital bed. 

"Matt, are you awake?" he asked me. 

I nodded. "Yeah," I said tonelessy. 

"Good. Because I need to ask you a few questions." 

"What?" 

"Why did you have sexual intercourse with another male right before slitting your wrists?" he questioned, looking at me expectantly. 

I went pale. "I d-didn't," I said, trying to stay calm, but my voice trembled when I spoke. 

/You're to swallow every single drop when I cum, otherwise there will be dire consequences you really don't want to know about./ 

"Matt, we saw the semen on your body," Dr. Kaos informed me gently. "We know you had sex. That's not the issue here. The question is why, and is it the reason you tried taking your own life?" 

I stayed silent this time and merely looked at the doctor I had known all my life. He looked frustrated, and I didn't blame him. I had always considered him a close friend that I could confide in, and ask questions without feeling stupid like I did around my dad. He knew my reason for not speaking wasn't because I was embarrassed, like I sensed my dad thought. However, I just can't tell him. I can't tell anyone. 

/You tell anybody, and you're as good as dead./ 

The very reason I couldn't tell. If I was to die, it certainly wouldn't be by _his_ hands. It'd be by my own. 

"Matt, is someone forcing you to have sexual intercourse with them?" 

I bit down on my lip and didn't answer. 

"Answer him dammit! Matt!" dad yelled, starting to get angry with me. 

"Mr. Ishida, calm down," Dr. Kaos warned. "Yelling at him won't help any." 

"I won't calm down! I want some answers, and I want them now!" dad looked at me and lowered his voice considerably, doing wonders for my aching head. "Matt, is someone sexually abusing you? Were you raped? Is that why you wanted to die? Please tell us." 

I shook my head, tears starting to brim in my eyes. Luckily I managed to keep them at bay. "Sorry, I can't tell you," I whisphered to them. 

Dad closed his eyes and I could see him silently counting to ten. Then, without another word to me or Dr. Kaos, he left the room, his hands balled into tight fists. 

~switch p.o.v.~ 

I left the room without saying anything else to Matt or the doctor, afraid I'd say something else I'd regret. 

Why couldn't Matt tell us anything? What was he so afraid of? Did he think I would confront whoever was hurting him? I want to understand so badly, but I don't. And I won't if Matt won't say anything. 

Angrily, I turned and punched the hospital wall as hard as I could, then leaned my head against it, tears beginning to form in my eyes. 

I was scared, for Matt I guess. Scared that he wouldn't tell me what happened to him. And angry he didn't feel like he could trust me. I didn't think he participated in that sex willingly. He had to have been forced into it. But who could be sick enough to do such a thing to him? Was it someone he knew, or was he just another victim of some random, senseless act? 

Dammit I wanted answers! Why the hell can't my own son talk to me? Did whoever is sexually using him hurt him or threaten him so badly that he's too afraid to talk? 

/'Why did you have sexual intercourse with another male right before slitting your wrists?' 'I d-didn't.'/ 

Why had Matt denied having sex? Wait, was it possible that he did something to somebody else then felt so guilty afterwards that he wanted to die? Is that why he can't say why? Oh God, I hope not. Matt........ 

~switch p.o.v.~ *two days later* 

I'm out of the hospital and at home now. Dad still questions me about what happened. Only now he's trying to decide whether I did something to somebody or if they did something to me. I almost wish I had done something to _him_. At least then it would make things easier on me. 

Just then the front door opened and I looked up from my position where I was reclining on the couch. 

It was _him_. And he knew. Christ, he _knew_. 

"Well Yamato, someone's been a bad boy, haven't they?" he asked coldly, moving towards me menacingly. 

Instinctively, I shrank back, watching, waiting, my terror heightening as each step he took brought him closer towards me. 

"Didn't I tell you it was useless to try and escape?" he asked as he caught my wrist with one sudden movement. 

I squirmed under his touch. God, I wanted out of here. 

"Well? Didn't I? Answer me Yamato! Didn't I tell you it was useless to try and escape me?!" he shouted into my face, twisting my wrist backwards. 

I stared up into his face, glaring defiantly. 

"It was useless to slit your wrists! I told you, your entire body, your pathetic excuse for a life, it's all worthless. You're mine Yamato. That's the sole purpose of your existence. You live for no other reason. To belong to me. That's why you live. For me. Now tell me. Tell me you understand perfectly." 

I opened my mouth to tell him, only because he was making my wrists bleed, but all that came out was a shrill scream of intense pain as I heard a loud snap pierce through the air. 

Surprised, he let go of my wrist, and I fell back into the couch, gasping and holding on to my wrist, trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing my tears of pain. My wrist! He had broken my wrist! 

From the way he smiled, I knew he knew it too. He wasn't stupid. 

"Oops. Did I hurt you Yamato? Here, I have an idea that will make you feel better." He told me, smirking. Roughly, he reached over and yanked me to my feet. The sudden movement sent jagged bolts of pain racing up and down my arm, and I screamed. 

Smirking again, he quickly begin to strip me, causing me to start shaking in fear, afraid he'd rape me again. 

But he didn't. Instead, he began to lightly trail his fingers up and down my bare chest once he had gotten me completely undressed. 

I shivered. Despite myself, I could feel myself starting to get aroused. 

He noticed, and smiling gently - but not tenderly - he let his fingers trail down the length of my cock, touching, teasing. 

I groaned. Even though I was as scared as hell, his touch felt so good. 

Then suddenly I couldn't feel him anymore. Surprised, I looked up. 

He grinned. "That looks very painful. Tell me Yamato, is it as painful as it looks?" 

I nodded hesitantly, not sure what was coming next. 

His voice suddenly turned to ice. "Good. Then take care of it." 

I stared in shock, not quite sure what he was getting at. Was he telling me to jack off? 

"Dammit Yamato, I don't have all day! I told you to take care of it! I wanna see you make yourself cum, and I wanna see it now!" he shouted, impatiently, his voice rising on the last word. 

I felt my cheeks flush with hot embarrassment and anger as I reached down with my good hand and began pumping myself, but I didn't dare disobey him. Not when he was agitated. 

After several minutes I came, my seed spurting all over my hands and on the sheets that had fallen to the floor when he had yanked me off the couch. 

I moaned and sank to my knees, temporarily exhausted. But he wasn't finished with me. Instead, he knelt down beside me and spread my legs, licking my cock clean of semen. 

Already I was growing hard again, but this time I fought it, determined not to give in so easily again. 

Finishing his meal of cum, he stood in satisfaction, pulling me to my feet as well, ordering me to strip him. 

Finally he stood nude before me, and I thought, 'now he's gonna rape me.' 

However, he had other ideas. Pushing my head down to where his straining erection was, he told me in a menacing voice, "You're to suck me, and this time when I come, don't spit any out. I want you to swallow my every last drop. Understand?" 

Disgusted, I nodded slightly. Reluctantly, I wrapped my lips around his pulsating cock in a deep rhythmic sucking motion. He moaned in pleasure and instinctively began thrusting his hardness deeper into my throat. I gagged and almost choked, but kept going, fearful of what he would do to me if I stopped. 

After an eternity he reached his climax, his creamy seed spilling down my throat as he drove his cock deep into my throat. I fought to swallow all his cum without choking, barely succeeding. 

Feeling sick, I let his limp cock slip from my mouth, trying desperately to keep from crying. I felt so humiliated, so ashamed. 

He sighed in pleasure, sagging to his knees. "Excellent job Yamato. But now you that you're done sucking me, you have to f**k me." 

My eyes widened in sheer terror. He wanted me to f**k him? Before, he'd always been the one doing the f**king. 

I tried to speak, but all that came out was this little squeak of utter fear. 

Smiling, he once again began to get me hard, preparing me for what was to come. Stupidly, I fought back and he started to hit me hard enough so that bruises already were forming. Resigned, I stopped struggling, and he resumed his earlier task of arousing me... 

~switch p.o.v.~ 

I slammed the door shut with a sigh, exhausted after another strenuous day at the station. 

Walking into the living room, I started to greet Matt, but stopped mid sentence at the sickening sight before my eyes. Matt was huddled in a little ball in the middle of the floor, naked. There was semen all over his legs, mouth, cock. There were bruises too, covering all parts of his body. He was crying and rocking back and forth, cradling his left wrist, which looked like it had bled earlier. He had also gotten sick earlier, there were traces of the smell still in the room. 

"Oh my God, Matt!" I cried, rushing over to him and taking him into my arms. 

He didn't respond, I don't think he even realized I was there. 

Picking him up and laying him on the couch, I went over to the phone and snatched up the receiver, glancing at my watch as I did so. After 5:00. Dr. Kaos would be at home. Impatiently I dialed his number. He answered on the second ring. 

"Hello, Kaos residence, Dr. Kaos speaking." 

"Hello, Dr. Kaos. It's Ishida. Listen, do you think you could come out to my apartment to see Matt? It's urgent." 

"Sure. Give me a few minutes to get there. Is he sick?" 

I hesitated for only the tiniest fraction of a second before saying, "Yes." 

"Allright. I'll be there." Then he hung up. 

Several long minutes later I found myself saying, "Thanks for coming. He's in the living room." 

Dr. Kaos nodded and walked in there. I followed, watching as he stared silently at Matt for a few moments. Finally he turned back towards me. 

"I thought you said he was sick," he said accusingly. But his eyes were just as pained as mine were. 

I shook my head. "I found him right before I called you. He was awake then, huddled in a little ball on the floor crying. I have no idea how long he was there, and he didn't acknowledge my presence." 

"Well, he couldn't have been there too long," he said, kneeling down beside Matt. "The semen on his body is still fresh." 

I walked over to a chair and sank down heavily into it. "Who is doing this to Matt?" I said wearily, more to myself than Dr. Kaos. 

I couldn't watch as he began to examine Matt, it hurt to much to see how Matt had suffered. 

However, when he muttered 'strange', I looked over there. "What?" I asked. 

"Well, during the sexual intercourse, it looks like Matt was the dominant one." 

I was too weary to process what he was saying. "How about plain English for common people like me?" I called. "Not everyone is as smart as you." 

"Matt was the one doing the f**king! There! Better now?" he snapped, his feelings slightly hurt. 

I winced. He had been rather blunt. "Can you tell whether he had the sex willingly or not?" I asked somewhat timidly. 

He sighed. "Isn't it obvious he was forced?" 

I rubbed my eyes. How could someone do this? Oh Matt, please tell me. 

"Mr. Ishida, is it all right if I wake him now?" 

I nodded. "Yeah, go ahead. But I'm gonna be in my room. Maybe he'll tell you something this time. I know he won't tell me, I've been asking him since he was released from the hospital two days ago." Then I got up and went into my room, knowing I wouldn't be able to stand seeing Matt's pain when he's awake. 

~switch p.o.v.~ 

I woke to the persistent shaking of my shoulders. The first thing I was aware of was the shrill scream of pain coming from my mouth as my wrist was being jarred back and forth by the shaking. The second thing I was aware of was Dr. Kaos standing over me, reassuring me it was all right. 

"My wrist!" I gasped. "Stop making my wrist shaking!" 

He apologized and let go of me. 

I opened my eyes slowly, not wanting to be here. I wanted to be dead, unconscious, anything to escape the pain. 

Dr. Kaos looked at me. "Matt, what's wrong with your wrist? How was I hurting it by shaking your shoulder?" 

"My wrist, it's broken. It hurts. A lot. Make it stop hurting," I begged, holding it up for him to see. However, that hurt too, so I put it back down. 

"It's broken? How? How did you break it?" 

"_He_ broke it," I muttered sourly. 

"He? Who's he? Matt, is your dad the one doing this to you?" 

I shook my head. "I almost wish it was. At least then I could stop it." I whisphered sadly. 

"Then who's he? Matt, you've always told me everything before. I know you're not embarrassed. You never have been. Something else is keeping you from telling." 

"Dr. Kaos, forget it. I won't tell you. I won't tell anyone. Now will you please take me to the hospital to fix my wrist before I try killing myself again?" I asked dryly. 

He stared at me. "You didn't mean that, did you? I mean, that last remark. About killing yourself?" 

I sighed. "I'm dead serious. I'd do anything to escape him. Even killing myself. And this time, I'd make sure I was dead." I told him softly. 

"Oh God Matt..... it's that bad?" 

"Let's see... I'm being sexually and physically abused. Nope, everything's perfectly fine," I said sarcastically. Then, "What do you think? Of course it's bad." 

He gave a sheepish grin at his stupidity. "Sorry. I'm just having a hard time thinking straight at the moment." 

"I know," I replied in a tired voice. "I understand. But could you please take care of my wrist right now? You'll have plenty of time to hassle me later." 

Dr. Kaos nodded. "But you can't go to the hospital looking like that. You'll have to clean up first." 

Surprisingly, I turned bright red at that. 

~switch p.o.v~ 

I was waiting anxiously in my bedroom when Dr. Kaos entered. Somewhat apprehensively, I looked at him and asked, "Is he...okay?" 

He sighed. "Other than a broken wrist and a few bruises, he's fine. Emotionally, however, is another story." 

I didn't reply; instead, I sat there seething. I was mad. At Matt, myself, Dr. Kaos, but mostly at whoever it was hurting my son. Matt was seventeen. He should be out having fun with his friends, dating, enjoying his last few years at school, not stuck at home suffering from abuse. 

Somewhat sadly, he shook his head a bit, then disappeared into the other room. 

"Dad?" a soft voice asked me. 

I looked up. Matt was standing in front of me, staring at me, the fear and pain still visible in his eyes. 

"Dad, we need to leave. I need to go back to the hospital, okay?" 

I just nodded, too hurt at seeing the suffering in his eyes to speak. 

Dr. Kaos walked back in to the room. "Good Matt, you're ready to go. Ishida?" 

I stood up and grabbed my coat from where it was draped over the back of the chair. "Yeah, let's go. Are we taking your car or mine?" 

"It doesn't matter." 

I was about to tell him to take his, when suddenly Matt made this funny noise and went pale as he collapsed. 

My eyes went wide. "Matt!" I cried, panicked, running over to him, as did Dr. Kaos. 

Kaos examined him for a few seconds, then said, "It's allright, he just fainted. Help me get him to the car." 

I bent my chin downwards in a slight acknowledgment as I leaned down and got a firm grip on Matt's arms. Dr. Kaos grabbed his feet and together we managed to get him out to the car. 

~switch p.o.v~ 

My wrist woke me as we were entering the hospital, throbbing and screaming in agonizing pain. 

"It hurts.." I moaned hoarsely. 

My dad looked down at me. "I know, Matt. We're gonna take care of it right now." 

I nodded. "A'ight." Then I went back to the darkness. 

However, I didn't get to stay long, because they wanted me awake while they were putting the cast on, so my arm would be sure to be straight. 

Then Dr. Kaos felt it best I be admitted to the hospital for a few days, to make sure I was really okay, and because they felt I would at least protected here, if no where else. 

I tried to protest, argue that it would be worse if I stayed in the hospital. They didn't believe me because they didn't understand. But I couldn't find the words to tell them that it would just make _him_ more angry that he wasn't able to get at me, and he would only hurt me worse when I got out. 

So I was admitted to a room, given painkillers, and was told to try to get some sleep, and that my wrist wouldn't hurt so much in the morning, and I was perfectly safe, he couldn't get to me here. 

I didn't entirely believe them, but I was too tired to protest. Instead, I just rolled over on my side in a little ball and tried to get sleep. 

The next day the constant throbbing of my wrist once again woke me. 

I opened my eyes to the late afternoon sunlight reluctantly, wishing I was at home, at school, anywhere but this damn hospital. 

Suddenly I started and let out a little gasp as _he_ stepped up out of the shadows. 

My eyes went wide and I started to tremble. "You!" 

He grinned sadistically. "Yep, that's right, it's me, and you better be out of this hospital by tomorrow afternoon or you'll regret you were ever born." Then he was gone. 

"I already do regret it," I told the small fake ivy plant on the table beside my bed. 

That evening, when Dad got off work and came to visit me, I pleaded with him to let me come home. 

"Please Dad! I feel fine, and it's only making it worse if I stay here. I'm okay now, I don't even need to be in here, and the only thing I'm accomplishing by staying is to tie up one of their beds. Besides, I want to go back home. Please, can't you get Dr. Kaos to release me?" 

"Matt, you've only been here for twenty hours. That's not even a full day. Give it a few days. Dr. Kaos wants to make sure you are fully physically all right, and somewhat emotionally stable, before he releases you. Have some patience, okay?" 

"But..." 

But it was useless. Dad wouldn't be swayed in his decision, and Dr. Kaos fully agreed with him. It turned out to be a full week before they finally released me, and then only because they were in desperate need of the bed. 

I dreaded going back home because I knew once I did, _he_ would show up. And what made it all worse was that I didn't know when. I just knew that he would, and when he did, he would not be happy. 

His visit ended up being the fourth day after I got out of the hospital. Dad had made a vow he would stay home the whole week after I was released to be perfectly sure I was allright, but by the fourth day he was needed in a bad way at the station. 

I was actually in the kitchen eating a hamburger - a fast food favorite way over in America - when he came in the back door. 

I was just about to bite into my hamburger when all of a sudden a voice behind me said, "Yamato, where have you been? I was extremely lonely all this time." 

I dropped my food and turned around so fast I would have lost my balance if it hadn't been for the table behind me that was keeping me from falling. 

He was standing behind me, completely unclad, an evil smirk on his face. His eyes were absolutely dancing with sheer delight, and I knew I was in for a long day. 

He didn't even bother to tease me this time. With one swift movement, he was standing in front of me and I found myself devoid of the boxers I had been wearing. 

My heart started to beat faster and faster as he continued to stare at me silently, and I feared I would have a heart attack if he didn't do something soon. The cold look in his eyes unnerved me. I had no idea, no way to tell what he was thinking, but I had a pretty good idea anyway. 

"Suck me hard," he told me suddenly, catching me off guard. 

"What?" I asked him, trying my best to remain calm. 

"I said suck me hard dammit!" he yelled, already losing patience. I knew he was extremely pissed. "I'm gonna teach you a lesson today, Yamato. I thought you had learned to not avoid me when I broke your arm. But apparently you didn't listen, because otherwise you would have been out of that hospital a week ago." 

"But it wasn't my fault." I whined. "My dad and my doctor wouldn't let me leave." 

"I don't care. You could have found a way out, and instead you let them manipulate you. Now you must pay for your disobedience." 

"I'm sorry," I whisphered, hoping he'd go easy on me for once. 

"This will be the last time I tell you Yamato. I want you to suck me, and I want you to suck me hard." 

I nodded, then reluctantly lowered my head to where his straining sex was. Taking a deep breath to prepare myself, I opened my mouth and placed my lips over his stiff erection, twirling my tongue roughly the head of his member several times before beginning a hard, rhythmic sucking motion. He came almost immediately, sighing in immense pleasure while I swallowed his warm, creamy liquid. 

I almost gagged on his taste, but I forced myself to swallow all of his cum, for fear of what he would do to me if I didn't. 

After a few moments he gathered his wits about him, as I so put it, and looked at me before ordering me to come stand next to him. 

I did so quickly and, like last time, he began to arouse me again. I tried to resist, to keep my raging hormones under control, but I couldn't help it. I started to get hard. 

Within a few minutes I was fully aroused and in extreme pain. Smiling not so nicely, he led me over to the bed and, after laying down on his stomach, ordered me to screw him into oblivion. 

Biting down hard on my lip hard enough to draw blood so as to keep the threatening tears at bay, I gently straddled myself atop of him and slowly began to lower myself into him. Since he wouldn't allow lube, I was afraid of hurting him. Not that I really cared if he got hurt. I just didn't want him hurting me in retaliation. 

Finally I found myself fully seated. I paused for a moment to get used to the strange sensation of being inside him again. This was only the second time I had ever f**ked somebody before, so I was still kinda new at this. 

In a couple of seconds I was ready. Raising myself up, I pulled partially out of him then slammed back in. After a few more experimental thrusts, I adjusted the angle at which I was thrusting into him and steadily began increasing my pace. 

He grimaced in pain at my first thrusts, but pretty soon his pain faded and pleasure surfaced. Eons later, or so it felt like to me, he came, his seed spurting all over the sheets of my bed. 

I sighed silently in relief and collapsed, thinking it was over, he would go and leave me to cry alone, but instead he merely ordered to f**k him again. So we went at it a second time, and when he came again, he told me to do him a third time. "We won't stop f**king until I have gotten the pleasure I so desire," were his exact words. 

Over and over we screwed, until I finally lost count. I know it was at least ten, because that was the last number I remember before giving up. Finally he was satisfied enough to look at his watch for a moment, and when he did, he jumped straight up out of bed. Not wanting to lose time, he went and grabbed his clothes from the back stairway to our apartment floor where he had undressed before entering through the back door. Taking a knife out of his jeans, he went over to where I was laying on the bed with my still stiff and badly need of release erection causing me much pain, since he wouldn't let me cum. 

Leaning down close to me, he took the knife and drew it fast and sharp down my good arm. I winced in pain as small red droplets of blood quickly began to dot my arm along the incision. 

"Next time I tell you I want you out of the hospital by the next day, you better do it, otherwise you'll be hurting worse than you are right now," he whisphered menacingly. I just stared at him in fear. He smirked once more at me, then was gone. 

The second I was sure he was gone, I reached down with my hand and took a firm hold of my cock, relieving myself with quick, jerky thrusts. When I was finished, I let my now limp cock slip out of my hand and I slowly dragged myself out of bed, heading towards the direction of the bathroom to clean up. 

~switch p.o.v~ 

"Allright, I'm leaving, I gotta get back home to Matt now. I'll see you guys later," I said, waving and turning to leave. 

"Ishida! Wait up!" one of the cameramen called, running up behind me. 

I turned back towards him. "Yeah?" 

"Did you ever get anything out of Matt yet?" he asked me in a low voice. 

I sighed and shook my head disappointedly. "He won't tell me anything still. All he says is 'I can't tell you, he'll kill me'. I'm really worried about him." 

"Well, I hope you catch the bastard who's hurting him soon, Ishida. Tell Matt I said hey." 

"Sure thing. Well, I gotta get back to Matt. I'm afraid I'll come home and find him stripped and bleeding on the floor again." 

"I understand. Well, see you tomorrow. Bai." 

"Sayounara." Then I turned and headed out of the station. 

To my relief, I found Matt sleeping peacefully on the couch when I got home. I watched him for a few moments while he rested. Even though he was seventeen, he looked so much younger. And yet, with all I sensed he has endured, he seemed older and wiser than his years. 

Suddenly Matt started in his sleep, then opened his eyes and sat up. "Dad," he said, wide-eyed. 

I smiled softly at him. "Hey Matt. I just got home. You okay today? No visits?" 

He nodded somewhat nervously, it seemed, and tried to smile. "Yeah, just fine." 

"Good. That's what I like to hear." 

He nodded again, and was about to lay down when suddenly he jumped out of bed and raced down the hall. 

I was so surprised by his sudden action, I didn't even try to see where he was going. A few minutes later he was back, looking a little pale. 

"Matt, are you allright?" I asked him, concerned. Was he getting sick or something, or had he lied? Did he have another visit after all? 

Inwardly I shook my head. No, he said he hadn't and I was going to believe him. I have to trust him right now. It's extremely important. 

"I'm fine dad. Just a little tired is all." 

I watched him, worried, as he went back over to the couch and laid back down. Within a few minutes, he was asleep. 

Shaking my head for real this time, I walked over to the kitchen to see what I could find still edible in the fridge. 

Once I finished eating some leftover shrimp I found in the fridge, I headed down the hall towards Matt's room to get all his laundry to be washed, since I was bored and had nothing better to do. 

I had gathered all his clothes I saw on the floor and was just about to leave when one of our bathroom towels caught my eye. It was half hidden under an extra pillow on his bed, and I would have missed it altogether if it hadn't been for the fact that it was unusually spotted red. 

I walked over to it and studied it, wondering when our towels went from white to white with red spots, when suddenly I realized I was seeing drying blood. 

So Matt had must have lied to me after all. He, whoever he was, must have came today after all. But why hadn't Matt told me? And where did this blood come from? 

~switch p.o.v.~ *three days later* 

"Not again," I murmured to myself as I looked up and saw him standing over me. 

He apparently heard me, because he gave a sadistic little grin and said, "Oh yes, again. And you know what? You're gonna f**k me until you please me again, because there's nothing better than total satisfaction in knowing you've had great sex." 

"I could think of a lot of things that were better," I muttered under my breath. Luckily, he did not hear that little comment. 

I'm not going to go into any kind of major detail this time, because it was basically just a repeat of a few days ago. However, I did manage not to lose count this time, and we ended up doing it sixteen times nonstop. Now I know what you're thinking, sixteen times? That's impossible. But you have to know, most of the time he was so hard that he came almost immediately. 

Apparently after the sixteenth time he was pleasured and exhausted, because instead of ordering me to f**k him again or perhaps suck him this time, he just lay back on my bed and sighed with happiness. 

I tried to get up and go get dressed, but he glared at me and told me to stay still. Yet I obviously had other ideas. 

"I will not stay put," I said indignantly. Why was I saying this? Did I really wanna get killed by his hands? "I will get up and I will go get dressed." 

His eyes flashed angrily and suddenly I felt that spark of fear again, that fear that kept me from stopping this sexual abuse, this madness. Snatching his knife off my beside table, he held it towards me and informed me, "You better watch what you say otherwise your back will be the one talking to the knife instead of the nightstand." 

Carelessly, I shrugged my shoulders. "You wouldn't stab me," I said. "Cut me yes, but stab me? No way." 

Then all of a sudden I cried out in pain and surprise as I felt something cool and sharp penetrate my backside several times before my world faded to black. I guess I was wrong. He would stab me. 

"Bastard..." I whisphered as I fell unconscious. 

~switch p.o.v.~ 

"Oh my God...." 

I stood motionless in the doorway to Matt's room, staring at the horrible scene before my eyes. 

My first thought was that he was dead. However, his chest was rising and falling slowly, and I realized with great relief he was still alive. 

Running over to the phone on his nightstand, I picked it up and called the hospital, asking them to page Dr. Kaos. 

While I was waiting for him to pick up, I went over and began to examine Matt. 

He was laying naked on the floor, unconscious in a pool of blood from the several stab wounds on his back. New bruises had begun to make themselves evident on his arms and legs, and I also noticed what looked like a slightly older cut on his good arm. 

"Dr. Kaos speaking, what can I do for you?" 

I turned my attention back to the phone. "Please come here right away." I whisphered, my voice hoarse, and with a start it hit me that I was crying. 

"Ishida? Is that you?" 

"Yeah, look, it's Matt again. He's been stabbed this time. Please come right away. I'm afraid he's gonna die." 

"Oh God," he breathed. "Listen, I can't get away from the hospital since I carpooled this morning, but bring Matt in to the emergency room and I'll take a look at him, allright?" 

"Sure thing. I'll be waiting for you." 

I replaced the receiver then went into my bedroom. Grabbing a blanket off of my bed, I returned to my son and wrapped it around him as best as I could. After grabbing a pair of Matt's boxers and one of his shirts, I hefted Matt up and carried him and his clothes out to the car, then proceeded to the hospital. 

Dr. Kaos was there waiting for me when I rushed Matt in. "Bring him to the emergency room. We need to check for internal bleeding and make sure none of those wounds need stitches." 

Several hours later found me waiting anxiously in the visitor's lounge when Dr. Kaos walked in. After leading me to an empty area in the far corner of the room, he said, "Matt's gonna be okay now. We had to perform surgery on him, because it turned out he had a lot of internal bleeding. Right now he's still unconscious because of the anesthetics we gave him, not to mention the painkillers are enough to keep him out for a couple of days. You can go in and see him, but there's no point in trying to talk to him." 

I nodded sadly. "I understand. But just as long as he's okay, that' s all that matters to me.." 

~switch p.o.v.~ *three days later* 

"Matt....Matt...." 

It's dark. The darkness is consuming me. Someone is calling my name. I don't want to answer. I want to stay in this warm darkness. Maybe if I ignore them, they'll go away. 

"Matt.." 

I groan. "...go away...." I try to mumble. 

"Matt, wake up......" 

I guess they didn't hear me. 

Sighing, I opened my eyes to the blurry shadows standing over me. They looked somehow familiar, but yet I couldn't quite place them. 

"Who.....?" I murmured faintly. 

Whoever it was sighed. "Thank God, you're awake Matt." 

"I can't see..." I said. "You're all fuzzy. Dare...?" *dare as in da-RAY, the Japanese word for who. In this case Matt's asking 'who are you?'* 

"You shouldn't be able to see until later tonight, when the painkiller wears off. But other than your vision, how are you?" 

"I feel like roadkill twice run over. Dare ga?" I persisted. 

"Oh right. Sorry. I forget you can't tell who I am with your vision like that. Dr. Kaos." 

"Ka...o...su...?" The name is familiar, but the face is not... 

"Yeah. Dr. Kaos. You know, childhood doctor, close friend, etc.?" 

I shook my head, then winced at the pain. 

"Well, that's all right. You'll remember me when you see me." 

"I'm sure I will," I muttered. 

I just want for him to go away. The pain- it's so intense. I don't know if I can stand it. Why? Why does it hurt so much? What happened to me? 

"You were stabbed Matt," this so called Dr. Kaos said gently. 

What, had he read my mind? 

"Um.. you're speaking out loud." 

I furrowed my brow. "I am?" I ask. 

"Yeah," he told me. 

I was about to say something, when the full blow of what he said hit me. "I was- stabbed? By who?" 

"I don't know. You tell me." 

"What makes you think I know?" 

Yet even as I said it, I realized I did know. How could I forgotten? _He_ was the one that stabbed me. He had hurt me so much. I hated him. 

I felt the tears begin to roll softly down my cheeks, and was helpless to stop them. Why? Why was this happening? What was so special about me that he would choose to f**kin abuse me? Me, out of all the millions of other people out there. 

I knew I was just wallowing in self pity, but at that point in time, I didn't really care. My whole life was being ruined-no, more like being controlled-all by one person. Someone I had trusted, heck, even loved as a close friend at one point, and he had betrayed me. All the hurt, the pain at having my friendship and trust being thrown back into my face, all of came rushing at me in one chilling realization, and it was overwhelming. 

I hated that bastard, hated him so much I wanted him dead. And yet, at the same time, I hated myself. Hated the fact that I let him manipulate me. Hated that fact I was to scared to fight back. Hell, I hated myself for just hating him, even. I've never felt so much hate and rage towards someone before. It's not my nature. It never has been. So why? Why must I have to deal with all this? 

"Matt? Daijoubu?" *Daijoubu..are you okay* 

I nod, not quite trusting myself to speak. 

~switch p.o.v~ *a week later* 

"Dad....?" 

I looked up suddenly, startled out of my sleep by my son's pain-filled voice. 

"Matt?" I say softly. "That you? You're awake?" 

"Yeah," he replies quietly. 

I let out a sigh of relief. "I'm glad.." I whispher. "Are you..okay?" 

He lets out a bitter laugh. "What do you think?" 

My mouth twists in a strange half little smile. "Sorry. Just a reflex question, I guess." 

He laughs, for real this time, giving me a soft smile I hadn't seen in ages. For a moment, it was almost enough to let me forget about all the hardships we were enduring right now, and it gave me a glimpse of the teenager Matt had once been. Just for a second, I could ignore all of our pain, pretend Matt was still his old, caring self. But never again. He would never be the same after this. Not ever. 

"Dad....don't cry..." Matt says suddenly. 

I look at him in confusion, then feel a drop of water fall onto my hand. 

"I'm sorry..." I murmur. "It's just..." 

"I know, Dad. I know." 

"Matt...?" I say his name with hesitation. 

"Yeah?" he asks, and I sense as much caution in his voice as there is hesitation in mine. 

"Who...who is doing this to you? Please, can't you tell me? Or tell someone else at least, if not me?" 

"Dad, I-" he begins, but I cut him off. 

"Matt, you have to realize this can't go on forever. But unless you tell someone who it is, it's probable the only other way it'll stop is that you'll die." I didn't like to say that, but I saw no other way to get through to him. "Matt, if you'll just tell me who it is, I won't let him get to you. I can go to the police without him finding out. And he can't hurt you if you stay here, there are too many people around." 

"That's where you're wrong Dad!" he cried out passionately. "He will find out! I know he will! He always does! And even if he is stopped, it won't be forever. He'll eventually come back and get me. He'll find a way." 

"Matt Goddammit he will not get you!" I barked, frustrated. I softened my voice. "Look, what if I requested a plainclothes cop and unmarked cruiser, would you tell us then? And afterwards, if we had someone guard your room until he was in custody?" 

He was silent for a long while, weighing his choices. I studied him intently, hoping to find some clue as to what he would decide. But his face and body language gave away nothing. 

Finally he spoke, his voice just above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Dad. I- .. I can't just yet." 

I sighed in bitter disappointment, but still clung to that tiny shred of hope he had given me with his words. He can't just yet. 

~switch p.o.v.~ 

"I'm sorry, Dad. I- .. I can't just yet." I told him, turning my face away so I wouldn't have to see the pain on his face that I knew was there. 

I could hear him sigh, and I knew he was disappointed in me. But how could I just tell him like that? After so much time, just say the one name that had been haunting me for six months? Six months. And about four of those months took place before I tried to kill myself, before Dad and Dr. Kaos found out I was being f**ked by a rapist, a sexual abuser. 

So there was no way I could suddenly just say the name. As much as I wanted this whole sorry mess to end, it wouldn't be right now, right here. 

Dad's probably right, too. It would only end if I died. I mean, where does he think I can get the courage to say his name? It'd have to be a miracle or something like that. 

I heard the door to my room open and close, and knew without having to turn around and look that Dad have left the room. He'd be back within a few hours; he didn't like leaving me by myself at the hospital. 

Now that he was gone, I had the freedom to cry without having to worry about him badgering me, asking me if I was allright. I let my tears flow freely, for once not being bothered about having him see me cry. I cried silently for a long time, not making any noise, my cheeks glittering with the wetness. 

Finally all my pain and weariness began to catch up with me. Exhausted, I lowered my head into my pillow and was asleep almost immediately. However, sleep brought me little relief. My dreams were filled with visions of my tormentor. It was a hellish nightmare I could not escape. 

Allrighty then, wasn't that just so cruel to Matt? My poor little Yamato! _ Well, don't worry. I'll put the ending to this story up. There's actually probably gonna be two endings. One is already written. Anyways, give me your guesses on Yama's abuser, k? And once I have enough reviews and at least 15 guesses, I'll put up the first ending. I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far. Please read and review! Thank you! 


	3. Untold Secrets OLD, Ending

Author's Notes: Allright, here it is! The first ending to Untold Secrets! Aren't you all glad that I put it up? And I just want to thank everyone who reviewed and gave their guesses on Yama's abuser. I have to say, I was surprised at the variety of guesses I got. Dr. Kaos, Ken, Takeru, Iori, Koushiro, Mr. Ishida, Agumon, and Tai of course. Well, anyways, read on to find out the true identity, and I hope everyone enjoys! Read and review, please! Thanks! 

~switch p.o.v.~ *three weeks and two days later* Ending One 

"Are you sure you're gonna be allright here?" I ask Matt, trying to keep the concern in my eyes hidden. "You'll call me if anything happens or if he comes to visit you again?" 

He nods, not looking at me, his eyes intently studying the frayed edges of his blanket instead, and this worries me. I don't know if I can trust my son. He lied to me once before about him coming to visit. But it'll have to do. Short of staying home all day, which I can't afford to do, there's nothing I could do that would help keep Matt safe. I'd already stayed home with Matt the first week he was out of the hospital, and it had cost me a lot financially. 

"Allright then Matt, I'm trusting you to tell me if something happens today. I'll try to be home by six, although considering the amount of work I missed I may have to stay later. Call me if you need anything. Bye." I wave a little, then leave, my ears barely catching his muttered 'See ya' before I'm out the door. 

At the station, I can hardly concentrate on what I'm doing all day. Instead, my mind keeps wandering over to Matt. Will I come home only to find him lying on the floor unconscious and suffering again? Or worse, will I find him lying in a pool of his own blood, dead? Oh Kami-sama, I certainly hope not. 

Jesus Matt, don't you realize how much this is tearing me up inside? 

~switch p.o.v.~ 

"Are you sure you're gonna be allright here? You'll call me if anything happens or if he comes to visit you again?" Dad asks me. 

I nod, but the truth is, I'm not sure. I have no idea whether he'll show up or not. All I can do is hope. 

Dad looks as if he doesn't believe me, but he still says, " Allright then Matt, I'm trusting you to tell me if something happens today. I'll try to be home by six, although considering the amount of work I missed I may have to stay later. Call me if you need anything. Bye." 

"See ya," I reply quietly as he heads out the door. 

When he is gone, I sigh in relief and jump up out of my makeshift bed on the couch. The sudden movement hurts the partially healed wounds in my back, and I cry out a little in pain. However, I make my way into the kitchen and grab a chair from the table, shoving the back of it under the doorknob to the backdoor. Then I snatch another chair and drag it to the living room, doing likewise to the front door. 

Yet I still don't feel safe. I really doubt a few chairs will keep him out. Hell, maybe Dad's right. Maybe I should say his name. I mean, when you resort to chairs for protection, not to mention you've already chain locked and double locked your doors, and still don't feel safe, you know it's time you escape from hell. 

Halfway satisfied of my security now, I head into the kitchen to get something to eat. After several minutes of staring moodily into our nearly empty cabinets, I finally settle on a bowl of dry cereal. 

The taste isn't exactly the most appealing thing in the world, but at least it fills me up. When I finish stuffing my face, I wander back into the living room. Bored, I flip on the TV and began to channel surf, looking for anything good on. I end up stopping on some movie that looks as boring as I was feeling, but there was nothing else on. 

Twenty minutes later, I had just about given up on the movie -my mind kept wandering to much- when I heard, quite distinctly, a knob being turned in the kitchen. 

My eyes widen and my breath comes in short, shallow gasps. It's him! Suddenly blinded by fear and panic, I drop the remote, boredom totally forgotten, and steal into the kitchen as quietly as I can. Luckily the chair and the chains were holding up quite well. He couldn't get in. Keeping completely silent, I crept out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the farthest room from the kitchen and living room -my dad's room. Shutting the door behind me, I slowly turn the lock. The 'click' it makes is barely audible. Then I proceed to stuff myself under my dad's bed. The blankets hanging over the edge are enough to hide me if he manages to get in somehow, although I doubt he will, I can hear the doorknob rattling all the way back here. 

I lay there for quite some time, frozen solid by my terror. The only thing that still works is my mind. Tons of jumbled thoughts are racing through my head, so many I can't make sense of them all. But the one that is foremost in my mind is 'should I?'. 

I realize now, hiding under my father's bed, just how ridiculous this all is. I've let my shame and guilt and pain make my decisions for so long now. Shouldn't I put a stop to it, make my own damn decisions again? I mean, if I can manage to protect myself with a couple of chairs, surely my dad can keep his promise of protecting me if I tell. It's just that I'm still so afraid. I felt compelled to keep silent for so long that I don't know if I can speak out against him now. Because somewhere, buried deep within my heart, there is this little piece of me, completely shattered, filled with betrayal, pain, sorrow, regret, so much emotion all combined to create the fear that keeps his secret, the secret that means so much to so many people. And it's that one tiny, GODDAMNED secret that makes my life utter, miserable hell. 

~switch p.o.v.~ 

I furrow my brow in frustration as I bang my knee on one of our kitchen chairs directly behind the door. 

"Shit," I curse the chair as I rub my aching knee. "What the hell are you doing out here, anyway?" I ask it. Of course I get no reply. 

Frowning, I pick up the chair and take it back into the kitchen, where I then spot another one of our chairs shoved up under the doorknob to the backdoor. 

"What the hell?" I mutter, as I pick up that chair as well. 

Suddenly I hear a noise behind me. I turn and see Matt standing behind me, looking for all the world like he had just emerged from my grandmother's dusty attic. 

"Mind explaining the chairs?" I ask my son, who then blushes slightly. 

I give him a strange look as he goes on to tell me, "I wanted to make sure he couldn't get in if he came today." 

"Whatever," I say as nonchalantly as possible. "Anyways, I brought home some take-out. You hungry?" I gesture to the styrofoam cartons overflowing with one of Matt's recent favorites: sushi. 

His eyes inspect the California rolls, and I would swear I saw this gleam of sheer happiness in them, something I hadn't seen in a long time. 

"Come on, sit down." I said. "We can eat right now." 

He smiles in eager anticipation, and I almost laugh at the childish delight reflected in his face. 

We eat in silence, me not really knowing what to say and him just too busy eating. 

He doesn't eat much, he hasn't been since he started to be abused, and it's not long before I, too, am full. 

I stand and take our plates to the sink and am about to head to the living room when I notice Matt is still sitting at the kitchen table. 

He has a strange blend of emotions on his face, emotions I can't really interpret, and his mind seems to be wrestling with something. 

Sensing he wants to talk to me about something, I sit back down, trying to keep my hope at bay. 

We sit in silence for a long while before I get up the courage to speak. "You okay Matt?" 

He shakes his head but says, "Yeah, I'm fine." 

My son, the hypocrite. 

Inwardly shrugging my shoulders, I retreat and maintain quiet once more. 

~switch p.o.v.~ 

Oh God, should I or shouldn't I? I don't know. This is all so confusing. I'm so scared. I don't know what to do. 

Dad, I don't know if I can trust you. 

My mind is screaming inside. 

So many different thoughts. 

I don't know what to do. 

Kami-sama, please help me. 

Suddenly Dad asks, "You okay Matt?" 

I shake my head but find myself replying, "Yeah, I'm fine." 

No I'm not. I'm scared as hell. I don't know what to do. Please Dad, help me. 

What should I do? 

~switch p.o.v.~ 

"Ichijouji Ken," Matt suddenly says softly, startling me. I barely hear him, and ask him to repeat it again. 

"Ichijouji Ken. He's the one that's been hurting me, Dad." 

I inhale, taking a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Now that he's finally told me, I'm not sure what to say. I never really expected him to tell me in the first place. I never expected him to tell anyone, period. 

Then reality hits. "Ken Ichijouji? But I thought you and him were real close friends!" 

He nods sadly, a few unbidden tears leaking out of his eyes and trailing down his cheeks. "We were, once a time ago. But then he started to want favors from me, because he liked me. I refused for awhile, but after a few weeks he stopped asking and just started taking." 

Under the table, I clench my hands into tight fists. My first thought is to go find Ken and hurt him the way he hurt Matt, show him how it felt. But I know that's not practical. 

~switch p.o.v.~ 

"Ichijouji Ken." 

OH MY GOD, I SAID IT!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! 

I can already feel the fear washing over me, constricting me, binding me in it's ropes tighter than ever before. 

Yet at the same time there's this deep sense of relief, relief that it's finally gonna end now, that Ken won't hurt me anymore. After all these months of sexual and physical abuse, it comes to end at a small kitchen table in an apartment in Odaiba, Japan, with open cartons of leftover California Rolls sitting in front of me. 

That one thought alone is overwhelming, and it gives me the courage to keep speaking. 

I go on talking to Dad, answering his questions, giving him brief, undetailed descriptions of some of the things that went on between Ken and me. He is shocked by this, of course, but at the same time I can sense his own exhilarating relief. 

Finally he is done questioning me, and I thankfully grow silent, trying hard to keep the terror within me, trying hard not to let it take over. 

Suddenly Dad smiles at me. "Thank you, Matt," he says softly. 

And it is then that, because of those three words, all my terror melts away, and I find nothing but courage and the strength to believe that somehow we will get through this. No more will there be untold secrets between us. 

"You're welcome, Dad," I reply just as softly. "You're welcome." 

©2001 Sexy Lemon Authoress June 21, 2001 Thursday 1:46 am 

~owari~ 

Waiii!! Aren't you all so proud of me? I finally finished it? Isn't it awesome? And I finally revealed Matt's tormentor. I bet most of you would have never guessed Ken, would ya? But yep, it's all true! I'm so evil, aren't I? ^_^ Oh, and just so it won't be so weird to have some thirteen year old raping and abusing a seventeen year old, I decided to make the younger Digidestined only two years younger than the originals, which would make Ken about fifteen in this fic. I bet he's really sexy looking....as is Matt...... *drools* Anyways, r&r please! I really want a lot of comment on this one. I worked my ass off on this to keep from giving away that it's Ken, and I also worked to make it extremely good(even if the ending is a little sappy) so everyone would love it, so please do me a great big ole favor and READ AND REVIEW!!! PLEASE!! I'm BEGGING YOU!!! =^.^= 


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